writing the waves of insecurity

Photo by Annie Spratt

I write this morning, from a place of insecurity and self-criticism. It’s a nauseating prospect, that I might actually publish a piece of vulnerable writing without armor. It is an odd space I’m in at the moment, toggling between impossible-to-know assessments of others’ assessments of me and feeling an easy-to-squash empowerment for consciously choosing to be vulnerable. I am, however, reassured in knowing that we all experience insecurities, ‘off’ days, and fear of others’ judgements (rejection).

Understanding that we share a common humanity offers a solid anchor from which to reveal the parts of ourselves that we feel don’t ‘measure up.’ The issue is rarely in the sharing, I find. Sharing can be courageous. My assessment is that the reason we hesitate to share is that we cannot control or direct how people respond: what they will think, will they embrace or dismiss us, or if they will honor our confidentiality. Sometimes, the people we turn to for help in fortifying our fragile egos and mending our hearts, misuse the moment, not understanding the difference between a bid for connection and an invitation to power trip.

Culturally, we’re raised to hold the false narrative that vulnerability and emotionality are weaknesses. We’re also programmed to judge others (and ourselves), quickly and harshly. It is no wonder why people struggle with sincere presence and compassion towards suffering. To make matters worse, we’re also plagued by the myth of ‘not enough’ — which compels us to elbow anyone we perceive as getting in the way of our ‘enough.’ Religions competing for God’s favor, humans competing for dominion over all other life, capitalists competing for ‘more,’ siblings competing for parents’ attention, employees competing for the boss’ praise, friends competing for popularity. The myth of ‘not enough’ is pervasive and deeply rooted in many of us.

It took me decades to learn how to discern who is/was safe to share my raggedy and vulnerable self with. Through countless mishandlings by people, I’ve identified my needs around being properly cared for, then cultivated relationships with a handful of beings who were/are seeking much the same. While we do and will have conflict, physical and time distance, and constant change — there is a commitment to the connection, to keep it clear of miscommunications, to celebrate authenticity and heartspeak, and to cultivate a practice of understanding, not judgment. I am not an expert in stating my needs — it can be terrifying — but these compassionate friends support me in learning to do so safely. This is not a static or set group of kin, the welcome mat is always in front of my door.

“Our stories are not meant for everyone. Hearing them is a privilege, and we should always ask ourselves this before we share: ‘Who has earned the right to hear my story?’ If we have one or two people in our lives who can sit with us and hold space for our shame stories, and love us for our strengths and struggles, we are incredibly lucky. If we have a friend, or small group of friends, or family who embraces our imperfections, vulnerabilities, and power, and fills us with a sense of belonging, we are incredibly lucky.”
- Brené Brown 

Not all relationships will meet our deepest needs. And that is okay! We have so many parts to ourselves that ache to be met by those respective parts in others. The trick is to know who to go to and for what, and not to burden people with covert or overt expectations that they meet deeper needs than is appropriate for the relationship — this may be a lifelong learning for me. In order to belong, and not just fit in, we need to know how we feel and what we need (this is one way therapy can be helpful). If we don’t have a decent degree of emotional literacy and recognize when our core needs are unmet (and how to meet them), we’re likely to outsource our sense of self and wellbeing to others. And when others fail us — and they will just by being human — it may feel catastrophic.

I have found that being vulnerable with the wrong people can be re-traumatizing or, at least diminishing and dismissing, and that offering my vulnerability to trust-tested people can be corrective and profoundly healing. Every one of us is carrying baggage through life, and not just anyone can help us sort through the sticky details of our stories. The invitation of this post is to begin within by growing competent in our feelings and needs, then patiently cultivate connections with people who can meet us in the sacred place of authenticity, vulnerability, non-judgment, and compassion.

I recognize lingering insecurity in sharing this process. I don’t claim to be an expert, just an experiencer who takes a lot of notes.