Vulnerable

"You rarely let me into your internal world. I'd like to support you more, if you want, but in order to do that I need to be let in more and know you are hurting. 

I can't read between the lines very well. I'd give you more support if you told me in the moment, rather than finding out through your blog later. I don't always know what you need, because you so rarely ask for it."

Ouch. I had just finished a rant to one of my best friends, Andrea, venting slightly unfair grievances I had over certain friendships I felt were too one-sided and lacking in support. She'd given me some sympathetic but objective perspective, and then she called me out -- she was glad I was being open now, but generally I was reluctant to be vulnerable and ask for help.

Dang, she's so right, I thought. Why am I like this?

Do you consider yourself the "strong one" in your relationships? Do you feel the need to always wear a "calm and collected" mask? Do you, like me, resist showing vulnerability? Have you ever asked yourself why?

By Catliv

For me, part of it is personality. "I am quite a stoic character," I acknowledged to Andrea. "I've always preferred to work through something quietly myself rather than 'making a fuss' -- which could be quite British, on reflection."

I can't blame my Britishness entirely, though, and personalities are molded by our experiences to some degree.

"Much of what we call our 'personalities' is actually the mosaic of our choices for self-protection plus our plan to get something of the love we were created for." Stasi Eldredge, Captivating

My past plays a significant role in my reluctance to be vulnerable, as I imagine it does for you, particularly wounds received and agreements made during turbulent teenage years, and in unhappy romances. I remember resolving, at one point, never to show when I was upset because then people would know my weaknesses and know where to hurt me.

Moving around a lot had an impact, too. I never knew how long a friendship would last. Even now, I expect people to exit my life at some point, so as a self-protective measure I can tend to avoid deeper connection.

For the friendships I did have growing up, I often perceived myself to be cast in the role of the "strong one." From around 8 years old, I remember having a string of friendships in which I seemed to be the level-headed one while the other was falling to pieces. Sometimes others seemed so caught up in their own drama (which was sometimes truly traumatic) that they didn't seem interested or capable of supporting me in mine.

Another factor, I realized, was my perfectionism. Trying to keep your best face forward and do everything possible to be good enough, to be worthy of love and acceptance, does not allow much room for anything that can be perceived as weakness.

Besides, doesn't it feel somehow extremely humiliating to admit to needing help? It hurts the pride.

However, constantly trying to self-protect, to be self-sufficient, to be strong on our own, can be exhausting and demoralizing. And it sabotages us in the area we truly long for -- real connection. We need community. We need to let another person see our humanity, our struggles, our pain sometimes. (Men, you too, not just women!)

"I still think there's merit in not always making a fuss, or in processing things yourself," I admitted to Andrea, "but I'm also coming to see there is value in vulnerability sometimes. That burdens don't always have to be borne alone. That sometimes people are safe enough to let them see behind the smile."

"True community is what we need the most and fear the most," I remember hearing once. (If only I could remember where.) This quote resonated with me then and resonates with me now. And true community involves giving and receiving.

Caveat: This does not mean you should start oversharing with all and sundry! It's important to establish healthy boundaries and find safe people. (There's lots of resources out there to help with this. Try Boundaries or Safe People by Drs. Cloud and Townsend.)

You don't need to be the mouse!

"Share each other's burdens, and in this way obey the law of Christ." (Gal 6:2)

And what is the law of Christ? In a nutshell, as He explained it, "You must love the Lord your God with all your heart, all your soul, and all your mind...and love your neighbor as you love yourself." (See Matthew 22:36-40) 

So, based on my experience, what can I recommend if you see yourself as the "strong one?"

Know there are people who want to support you and will love you even when they realize you're not perfect (hint: they already know that, and they're still by your side). Realize it's OK to need help. Try taking off the mask sometimes. Embrace healthy vulnerability, even if you have to take it slow.

What do I recommend if you are the friend trying to help the "strong one?" (And this applies to you, my friend, reading this.)

Be a safe person. Build trust (and realize that trust is built in the small moments). Be patient, but don't be afraid to call them out gently sometimes. Ask them how they're really doing, and really listen. Show them, in whatever way they receive love best, that you genuinely care.

Ultimately, vulnerability is powerful. Vulnerability allows us to move towards the community, intimacy, and love that we all need. And I am learning this one tiny, trembling step at a time.

Brene Brown's stuff <3 p="">

Trust

Wednesday evening I sat sobbing on my bed under a cloud of hopeless despondency. It was an outburst provoked by a picture and a message, and undoubtedly fuelled in part by floods of helpful hormones. There was a guest waiting downstairs, my mother was about to serve dinner, and here I was having a mini breakdown, hating myself for it, and throwing jaded, hurt-laden questions to the heavens. I sniffled my way to bed that night, feeling unreasonably despairing.   

"Disney taught me the best way to express sadness is to throw yourself on the bed and cry dramatically."

You know those moments when you realize God is really trying to get your attention? When something keeps coming up again and again and again?

A particular verse had been appearing repeatedly, whether verbatim or simply in concept. Social media feeds. Messages from friends. Books. "Verse of the day" in my Bible app. The text was everywhere.

It's a verse I could recite in my sleep, and perhaps for this reason I hadn't paid it much attention, but when it popped up again on Thursday morning, this time it spoke to my heart, which was still slightly fragile from the night before.

"Trust in the Lord with all your heart; do not depend on your own understanding. Seek his will in all you do, and he will show you which path to take." (Proverbs 3:5-6, NLT)

"OK, God, what are you saying with this repeated passage?" As I pondered the verse, journal and cup of tea in hand, two thoughts occurred to me.


First, this was God's encouragement to me. In my moments of discouragement, I had thought, "Can I really trust that God is guiding me?" It had been one of my tearful questions the night before. Now, I knew this verse was whispering an answer. I sensed God addressing my heart:

"Haven't you been seeking my will? Haven't you been open to whatever that was, with all the honesty of your will you could muster, regardless of your feelings?"
"Yes, I have."
"Then I have honored that; you can trust that I am leading you. Stop second guessing all the time just because things aren't always going as you would like or expect! You are learning to listen to my voice, and you know that I am actually guiding you, and that it's not a product of your imagination. You can trust Me to direct you."

Second, this verse was also a much-needed reminder not to rely on ("lean on," as some translations phrase it) my own understanding. I think that's a huge issue for many of us. It is for me. How easy it is to look at our lives sometimes and compare our current circumstances with how God has been leading or speaking to us -- or even just to look at one or the other without the comparison -- and think, "I don't understand!"

Often, we're relying on what we think we know to try and figure things out.

"The key to receiving answers to prayers for guidance is to let go of our constant attempt to 'figure things out.' Really, it is almost incessant; I will be in the midst of seeking the God of four hundred billion billion suns on some issue of guidance, and in the midst of asking him, I am thinking through the options, trying to figure it out as I pray." (John Eldredge in Moving Mountains)

Often we're relying on our own ken, our perspective, our interpretation of situations, even when we purport to be trusting in God. I know I do that, and I can get frustrated and discouraged as a result.

In fact, the concept came up in my reading a couple of days ago: "Learn also to wait on God for the unfolding of His will. Let God form your plans about everything in your mind and heart and then let Him execute them. Do not rely on any wisdom of your own. For many times His execution will seem so contradictory to the plan He gave. Simply listen, obey, and trust God even when it seems highest folly to do so." (Streams in the Desert)

Learning not to lean on my own understanding is a struggle, but for every time I complain, "God, I don't understand why..." this verse reminds me of how God responds: Trust Me.
"But in my perspective, this is..." Trust.
"God, You said this, but it looks like..." Trust.
"But so and so thinks...and they may have a point." Trust.
"Are You sure I shouldn't/should do this?" Trust.

As if I needed a little extra confirmation or emphasis to the message, the same thing has been circling round my head for the last couple of days in Portuguese. The lyrics of a song I hadn't heard in ages popped into my mind, and I pottered round the house humming to myself, "Confia, confia! [Trust, trust!]"

It's a good song. 

Today I looked up all the lyrics to the song. They say, in part,

"Trust Him who has chosen you, in Him who has promised you, trust, trust, trust.
Trust, even if there is no way out -- even if there is no more life -- even if everything went wrong -- trust.
Trust, even if He is on the cross -- even if the light is buried -- trust, for on the third day death will not hold you.
Trust, even if He is silent -- even if the world is over -- trust, He will arrive in time to bless you."

What is the secret of being able to trust, of being sure that God is directing your path? There is a clue in verse 6: "Seek His will in all you do," or "In all your ways acknowledge Him..."

This is not only about asking for guidance, though, or tagging on to your prayers the phrase, "Your will be done." The Hebrew word translated as "acknowledge" or "seek" is actually the word for "know."

Thus, the verse could also be rendered something like this: "Know God in all of your ways, and He will direct your paths."

It comes down to relationship. To friendship. God wants that personal, intimate connection with you. He wants you to know Him as He knows you. He wants to speak into your situations. It is possible.

I love that reminder. 

"The Way of Joy" by Greg Olsen. I love what this picture expresses about friendship with God.

"If you look for Me wholeheartedly, you will find Me." (Jeremiah 29:13)

"I am the good shepherd; I know my own sheep, and they know me... My sheep hear my voice, and I know them, and they follow Me." (John 10: 14, 27)

So here I am. The cloud of despair and of doubtful questioning has lifted this morning. I am reminded, and I am aiming to obey -- to trust God and not rely on my own understanding, to know Him in all of my ways, and to rest in the resulting surety that He is showing me the right paths to take. 

"4 Choices" by Adam DeClercq