Until this weekend I thought I understood what vulnerability feels like. I didn’t. I didn’t have a clue.
 
I noticed a lot of new readers coming to my site over the past few days, thanks to the lovely blog Cup of Jo sharing my post on Friday, and my first thought was, “Wow, so many people are reading what I wrote! This is amazing.”
 
My second thought was, “Wow, SO MANY people are reading what I wrote. That’s a lot of people. Oh look, they are clicking around my site and reading everything. Everything.”
 
My third thought was, “What have I done?”
 
Then I realized, this is what vulnerability feels like. Brene Brown never said it was going to be simple or easy or fun. She did say it, “sounds like truth and feels like courage.” It feels like a lot of things but I’m not sure I would describe it as feeling like courage today.
 
So, what does vulnerability feel like? Well, right now vulnerability feels like sitting naked in the middle of a room while people circle you silently, nod to each other, exchange glances, and then walk away. It feels like watching someone go through every drawer in your house, every book on your bookshelf, and every box in your pantry.
 
Vulnerability feels like a choir solo, a breakup, and a bad haircut all on the same day. Basically, vulnerability feels like seventh grade. It’s feeling lonely and excited and anxious in the same second. It’s feeling rejected and accepted in the same moment, by the same person.
 
Vulnerability feels like a pit in your stomach. It forces you to take a deep breath and ask yourself, “Am I okay?” It wants you to second guess yourself. The thing is, once you’re second guessing yourself it’s too late. That’s the beauty of vulnerability.
 
I’ve always thought about vulnerability as being black and white, all or nothing, all the time. Like it’s either something I’m doing or something I’m not doing. I’m either living a vulnerable life or I’m not. I’m either a vulnerable person or I’m not. You know what? I was wrong. Vulnerability is a process. It’s figuring out how much of myself to share, with whom, and when. Vulnerability is a choice I have to make every day.
 
Brene says, “Vulnerability is not knowing victory or defeat, it’s understanding the necessity of both; it’s engaging. It’s being all in.”
 
I’m in, I’m all in. And yes, that scares me.
 
What does vulnerability feel like to you?