We're the Grownups Now
Everything Good Requires Vulnerability
Hello ♡,
This time of year always seems full of the comparisons between our child selves and adult selves. We have memories of this season (good of bad), we are creating memories for others (hopefully good), we are are missing people who are gone.
I think about this quote often:
“When we were children, we used to think that when we were grown-up we would no longer be vulnerable. But to grow up is to accept vulnerability... To be alive is to be vulnerable.”
― Madeleine L’Engle
When I was a child, I always imagined grown-ups were made of a different substance than me. I looked at them and thought they must not hurt as much, and surely not be as scared as I was. I thought things would all just make sense, come easier, and not be so hard. I remember picturing some sort of “change” that you would go through to be made of the grown-up stuff.
The change I long expected, to make me impenetrable to fear and to feeling small, never came. I still find myself surprised at times that I am allowed to be this grown-up, walking around, taking care of other humans. It happened little by little, all the responsibilities, all the roles, and all the bills…but every now and then I still catch myself surprised that this is what I am doing and this is what it feels like. I am not sure I signed up for this, I often think. I didn’t think it would feel so raw and in “real time” to be a grown-up.
When we are growing up, if we are lucky, we are being shepherded along to the next milestone. There’s not time to consider so much where you are going when you are climbing to the next step. But then you get there, and it turns out, you are still yourself, and if you’re paying attention, vulnerability is everywhere.
In one of author Anne Lamott’s books she quotes her son when he finds out that we will all die, “ I didn’t sign up for this.” Those words rang like a loud bell right through my soul when I read them. YES, I thought, EXACTLY. From the wisdom only a child could poignantly express.
I. Did. Not. Sign. Up. For. This. For these deaths, for this gripping fear, for the loss and trauma we are witnessing. For the sicknesses and the endings. A line from one of my favorite songwriters is: “Close my eyes. Hold my breath and wait for this to be over.” I think about this line when I think about the vulnerability we all face every moment, and the pain we are witnessing others confront. The inherent vulnerability in the gift of being alive can feel frankly overwhelming.
And yet, everything I call good in my life has required vulnerability of me.
When I opened up to a friend, deepening our bond. When I went through childbirth. When I ventured out into a career. When I fell in love…
In a training I once heard Professor Dr. Terry Hargrave describe faith in this way: Some of us skate out onto an icy lake, confident and carefree. While others of us get down flat onto the ground and inch by inch slide our bodies out onto the icy lake. Both are faith, just expressed in different ways. (I am certainly more of a slider than a skater, you?)
And in the same way, both are being brave, both are an image of vulnerability. Sometimes we will skate out, sometimes we are flat on the ground crawling. Some of us will have a temperament, background, or just a moment when we skate confidently out onto the ice of vulnerability, heartily taking the risk. While others of us must crawl, or even slide our bodies, inch by inch out onto our lake. But make no mistake, both are risk, both are vulnerability, and both ways are worthy of exploring.
Dr Brené Brown, define vulnerability as “uncertainty, risk and emotional exposure.” And that “vulnerability is the birthplace of love, belonging, joy, courage, empathy and creativity,” all good things.
Every good thing in my life has required vulnerability. Being close to someone I love and will one day lose. Exploring faith. Trying to find healing. Helping a neighbor, which may require awkward conversation. Changing in any way… And it doesn’t have to look bold, or big, or fast, but any good thing we are wanting will require us to acknowledge what is already true: to be alive is to be vulnerable.
Let’s skate or crawl out to what vulnerability may have for us.
With you, skating or sliding,
Monica
Out of Office ❤️:
I will be out of the office (and this space) until the New Year. Wishing you grounded peace, gentle spaces, and hope.
I'm just back in the substack world and it's good as always to read your lovely thoughts. Just had a vulnerable conversation yesterday and this was a good reminder that it's in that space that we can be most alive