What I Want You To Know

A few months ago I sat across from my husband Brandon in a fancy restaurant. The food was outstanding (I would drive right now to go get that chicken dish again). The atmosphere was elegant. It was his birthday. We were celebrating.

And I was crying.

Pent up tears. Hot ones. The kind that burn. You know what I'm talking about. The kind that won't stop no matter how much you try. The ones that just silently roll down your cheeks.

I wasn't mad. Or sad. I was relieved.

I had finally gotten off my chest the fact that I knew I was supposed to be helping people have deeper and more meaningful conversations that would help them lead to change. I knew it was what I was supposed to be doing and it felt scary.

Vulnerability is the best and worst in me sometimes. The thing that drives some people away because let's be honest, who wants a friend who constantly wants to talk about deep stuff. That's the girl you want at the party, right? (Actually, I'm really fun, play some Wilson Phillips and I'll put on a performance you won't forget! 😉

But, I hate to break it to you, it's who I am. And whether you want to admit it or not... It's who you are too. Even if you find it difficult. We all do. Vulnerability is not easy and it can be scary as hell.

“Vulnerability sounds like truth and feels like courage. Truth and courage aren't always comfortable, but they're never weakness.”  Brene Brown

I don't know how you grew up, but I grew up believing that there were parts of me that were not enough. Parts of me that should be hidden or held back because it would cause people to leave me. I believed that people wouldn't love me if they knew the real me and as a result a lot of my true needs, wants, fears, and ambitions were held back because I couldn't afford to lose anyone else in my life.

Fast forward to now where I realize that all of that was complete bull crap. The more that I have allowed true vulnerability to happen the more that I am finding the parts of me that are loved, accepted, embraced, and even cherished. People like me. Like...really like me. And my story and my feelings and thoughts don't scare them away. And that my friends is freeing.

Vulnerability is funny like that. It lifts a veil. It allows us to share our story, and give people a chance to see us for who we really are.

“Owning our story can be hard but not nearly as difficult as spending our lives running from it. Embracing our vulnerabilities is risky but not nearly as dangerous as giving up on love and belonging and joy—the experiences that make us the most vulnerable. Only when we are brave enough to explore the darkness will we discover the infinite power of our light.” - Brene Brown

And here's what I want you to know. More than anything else I want you to know.

You. Are. Worth. It.

You are worth how much it is going to suck to get real with someone. You are worth the hard moments and the fear of being rejected that it's going to take to sit across from someone and start to let someone see the real pieces of you. The pieces of you that dreams crazy dreams, and dares to do extraordinary things, and has real fears and insecurities. You are worth the love and connection that you are going to build with others as you allow them into your story and they find themselves in the nooks and crannies of it. You are worth the healing that will happen when things are brought out from the dark and given a place for the light to shine.

We will talk some more about practical steps on how, where, when, who. But here's the deal, you're not going to find safe spaces to do it sitting behind a phone screen. Or on the couch. On Instagram or Tik Tok.

You're going to have to risk creating your own safe spaces to do it.

In coffee shops. At tables. In counseling offices and maybe in a pew or row of chairs at a church.

And it might mean you sitting in front of a trusted friend, a trained counselor, or a pastor (though they would probably rather you go to a counselor if they were being honest). But the safe spaces are there.

The excuses are dwindling.

Will it be easy? No. Duh. (How's that for some enlightening or poetic phrase??)

But will it be worth? I'm betting my future on it.

So what does that look like for you this week? What does it look like to peel back a small layer with someone? It might be a small step, but just admitting you're worth it might be the next right step.