On vulnerability

In reaction to this very powerful TED talk I watched just today, here are my most recent, and personally vulnerable thoughts on vulnerability:

There are things in my life which I thought would be in place right now. I thought I would be different. But I’m not. I thought there was a certain way I should be. But I’m not. There is a part of me that does not feel worthy of any of this life. Part of me also thinks I deserve better. That part of me wants to be better to deserve happiness and love and any of the good in life. As I am right now maybe I don’t feel like I deserve any of it. That it is all out of my reach. That as I am I am not worthy. I didn’t think it was true until I wrote it. I don’t think I am worthy of the good in life at the state I am now. I am fundamentally messed up in some way. That is what I have thought my entire life. Something in me is different. Sometimes it is fun to think I am utterly unique and separate. Really, it just makes me feel lonely and ostracized. I have always felt that something about me just didn’t fit. I never fully belong. I tried and still try to force myself to. To be someone that everyone else likes. To say the right things at the right time. To drink, to smoke, to laugh, to make fun of, to do things I know are wrong, to make other people comfortable at the expense of myself. All in an effort for approval. How childish! How immature! How do I move past this? Where do I get the courage to be myself? I thought I didn’t know who I was, but that’s not true. I think I know exactly who I am underneath all of this. I think I’ve known this entire time, but I didn’t think she was good enough. She wasn’t cool enough. She was lame. She was pathetic. She was VULNERABLE. Sure, I have developed and changed over the years, but she was always in there. Always uncomfortable when things were getting weird. She knows. She knows that things aren’t right. She tries to warn me. She tries to tell me what is right. I push her down, tell her she is a prude. She cares too much. She is a weirdo and no one will ever like her if she keeps acting that way. She isn’t scared. The real me isn’t scared. This thing I have created is scared to let her shine. This “me” I’ve tried to create is blocking her. She is imprisoned under this weird personality I have concocted. When I thought I was getting to know myself I was just testing different ways to stifle her. I was just testing out every tool I could to make her shut up. She is patient. She never left me. She is still underneath all of it. I’m still scared to let her out. I still don’t think I believe she is cool enough, or fun enough, or acceptable. She’s too serious. She thinks too much. There is a darkness and sadness to her. There is hurt there. There is VULNERABILITY to her. I do know she is beautiful. I’ve covered her up. This is the ugliness I see in myself. It seems so clear now. These layers I’ve created to mask her beauty. To hide her soft spots. God, can I wipe the layers away? Chip at them? She has been hiding for too long. She deserves a chance to shine.

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