Being Vulnerable

Hi! My name is Caroline, and if you haven’t met me yet, I’m interning with KMC for the summer. Along with some other things I’m doing around the office, Scott and Abbe asked me to write a blog post. Here you’ll see my humble contribution to the work they do; I hope you’ll find in it the glimpse of hope you need today.

Being misunderstood is a feeling we all know well. Whether in a momentous or minuscule way, it is a disappointing place to be. On top of everything we face in this broken world, being misunderstood for our struggles just adds another layer of hurt. It is something I’ve wrestled with all my life, and if you’re reading this I’m sure you’re familiar with it, too.

In my short time on this earth and in the mental health field, I’ve witnessed just how often the hard things we face are misunderstood by others, both by those closest to us and by outsiders looking in on our story. This, in my opinion, is the hardest place to be: completely helpless, alone, and misunderstood as you face a situation that looks impossibly dark.

I have struggled with a lot in my life, and from the outside it admittedly looks strange. From uncontrollable anxiety that manifests itself in constant bursts of tears and a short temper, to sensory issues that fuel my anxiety and wreak havoc on my mind, I am no stranger to niche triggers and creative coping mechanisms. Friend, hear me: I am there with you, and I see these triggers and coping skills all around me:

In the college kid who struggles with suicidal tendencies;

In the mother who just lost her baby;

In the high schooler who thinks his past mistakes and habits define him;

In the family broken apart by divorce;

In the one suffering loss;

And in a million other people and places that whisper hints of their hurts and their fears.

The truth is that each and every one of us deals with a trigger that feels isolating, one that creeps up on us and traps us under its suffocating weight. And it breaks my heart that so many who are suffering never open up for fear of judgement, misunderstanding, and more hurt being added to their present pain.

Friend, this is a lonely place to be. I see how hard you’re working to get better, to find healing. My heart is with you on that journey, and I want to share something with you that I’ve learned through many hard-fought battles with my unusual triggers.

In my hopeless, utter darkness, I found that opening myself up to misunderstanding was one of the very ways I could combat it.

It’s not as easy as it sounds; I know that. It takes so much courage to take that first step towards vulnerability, but I promise you there is relief on the other side.

I cautiously found one friend. One confidant — my mentor. And I shared with her the things that pressed in around me, threatening to shatter me into a million little pieces.

And in this place where I was vulnerable, where I took a chance and asked to be understood, I was. In the midst of thousands of tiny moments of being insulted and mocked and assumed strange for who I was and what I needed, I gave raw vulnerability a chance and was met with such mutuality as I have never known. While my mentor didn’t struggle with the same things I did, she showed me that she was there with me and that she was listening. She didn’t judge, she didn’t supply me with an unhelpful quick fix. She simply loved me through it. And often that’s all we need: to know that we are heard and that someone is willing to sit with us as we process and navigate the strange journey unfolding before us.

For you it could be a friend. A spouse. A professional. A loved one. A mentor. You could find them in the unlikeliest of places, or they could have been right there with you all along. But no matter where they are, or where they have been, or where you found them, I encourage you open your eyes to the possibility of being vulnerable. As you go through this life and encounter the hard, stormy, hurtful places, I encourage you to practice bearing one another’s burdens. It may not come easily, and it may take some time to get to a place where you feel ready to share what you’re going through, but when that time comes you can’t imagine the love you’ll be met with if you only take the chance.

And the sweetest part?

Once you’ve been the vulnerable one, once you’ve opened yourself up, you’ll find that you’ve learned how to better love others in their vulnerability. You get to become that friend that listens and supports. You get to supply the empathy and compassion that you so longed for during your time in the valley.

It’s something like a full circle, but it’s drawn slowly, with many a wobbly line.

The progress is gradual, slow. You’ll barely notice it at first, but in time it becomes clear.

That all along, you were carried and loved. All because you gave vulnerability a chance.

With all love and encouragement,

Caroline