Dressed in a Cloak of Vulnerability, I win

Last year, I met someone and fell for them… hard. I thought I had met my person, which I think sounded a little crazy to some of my friends considering I had just met the guy. But in my heart, I felt connected to him - physically, emotionally, and spiritually.

Or, I suppose, as physically, emotionally, and spiritually you can connect to someone in a few weeks time span. There was something about this person’s energy that I was super drawn to. I felt like I could just show up as my authentic self - dorky humor, make-up-free face, passionate tangents about the things I love, vulnerable sharing of loss, strong feminist views, smelly nighttime toots...it felt really freeing to be honest: to show up fully and be not only accepted, but strongly liked for it. 

When he ended things about a month later, my abandonment wound throbbed. I remember speaking on the phone with him, crying, trying to understand why we couldn’t continue getting to know one another and work through any resistance that was surfacing. He told me he was trying to move across the country for a great job opportunity, and that a long distance relationship would be too difficult for both of us. Six months later I found out that he didn’t end up moving. I tried reaching out to check in, but sadly (for me), there was no response.

When I think about this short-lived romance - the high I experienced - that ended as quickly as it started, I feel slightly embarrassed for struggling to move past it with ease. 

It’s not like we dated for years.

We barely knew each other.

It’s not a true connection, it’s only infatuation.

What did I expect? It takes a while to really know someone. 

Only fools rush in, you should have protected your heart better.

The judgements danced around in my mind, and I began to feel shame around my attachment to the feelings I experienced with him.  

I think there is a part of me that felt like I somehow lost in this situation, which is almost entirely a feeling that is born of the ego. I have found myself wondering what really happened with us and how he could seemingly walk away with ease from something so full of joy and unique connection. Did I imagine that he was interested in me, or do something to make him change his mind about us? Should I feel embarrassed that I still think about him or that I ever tried to reach out to him once he ended things? Should I see this as a failure of mine in any way? Did I expose too much of my heart?

Did I really lose? 

A few weeks ago I watched Brene Brown’s Netflix special, The Call to Courage, where she spoke on vulnerability and shame. She talked about what it means to be brave in life, and how so many of us have been mis-educated on the term. Being brave, Brene explains, isn’t hiding your vulnerabilities for fear of looking weak; being brave is about showing up as your full self, dressed in a cloak of vulnerability. Of course we need to have boundaries in place before sharing our full selves with people, but nonetheless, we show up, risking judgement and failure and embarrassment. Simply put in the words of Teddy Roosevelt which served as Brene Brown’s book title on this subject: we show up while daring greatly. 

At the end of the special, Brene shares a story about her daughter who was asked by her swimming coach to swim the freestyle heat for her team, a race she would inevitably lose as a novice swimmer. Her daughter was anxious and fearful in the days leading up to the meet. As predicted, she ended up losing so badly that she was the only one left swimming, minutes after everyone else had finished. She pulled herself up onto the ledge of the pool, walked over to her mother, Brene, crying, and reiterated that she had lost very badly. Brene looked back at her young daughter, shaking her head in agreement and with empathy.

Then her nine-year-old daughter said, as her voice trembled: “But I was brave by showing up, so really, I won.”

As I heard this phrase, goosebumps formed across my arms. There was nothing I had lost from sharing my heart with the man I found a beautiful connection with last year. There was nothing wrong with crying on the phone to him, or even those two emails I wrote asking how he was doing. I was merely being brave with my heart and my authentic feelings for him. I didn't lose by showing up in a cloak of vulnerability. As a relationship, sure, it was a loss. But for me, I was brave. So really, I won.