The limits of my vulnerability
Yesterday was a big day.
After working on this website for a couple of months, I finally pushed it live yesterday morning (February 28, 2022), and nervously posted about it on LinkedIn, launching it into the world for whatever responses and impact it would create. Cue triumphant cinematic music.
But really, don’t. That last paragraph isn’t entirely true.
I have been working on this project for a couple of months, on and off. But I’ve been writing for far longer than that. All of the parts and pieces only started coming together into an actual website in the last 5 or 6 weeks.
I also really pushed this project live last Friday, but only told two people about it so they could share feedback with me. I was hoping for a mix of enthusiastic support (which I received) and critical feedback (which I also received) so that I could feel confident when I was finally ready to share the site with others. My yard stick of confidence here, though, was just feeling like I could publish things without needing to hide under a desk afterwards.
(NOTE: This is something I have done before. In college, a friend was trying to get me a work-study job in her on-campus office. I was so shy and afraid of human interaction back then, that when her boss came in to talk to me, I literally hid under the desk so she wouldn’t know I was there. That feeling of complete terror and un-confidence(?) is forever etched into my brain, but when I picture that moment, I see it from an omniscient point of view, very much outside of myself. I don’t know what that means, so if there are any therapists reading this, please let me know.)
Here’s the last part of my initial statement that’s only partially true. While I did launch this website into the world yesterday, I only posted about it on LinkedIn, for a very specific reason:
It’s less scary for me to be vulnerable with friends and colleagues and peers and the bajillions of other people I don’t know on this professional network than it is for me to be vulnerable with my family.
That’s not to say that sharing it on LinkedIn wasn’t scary, because it was. I did one of those “shut your eyes real tight, hit post, and then recoil from the keyboard like it’s made of acid” moves when I initially posted it. But I very intentionally did not say anything about it on Instagram, which is the only other social network I use these days, because there are people in my family who follow me there.
One person, specifically.
Chances are they’re going to read this at some point and know who they are (hi), so I will apologize in advance for however this makes them/you feel. My intent is not to hurt anyone. I’m trying to work through why it’s scarier to reveal myself to the people who are relationally closest to me, than it is to be unapologetically vulnerable with folks I may or may not actually know in real life.
I have a couple of theories:
You’ll call me out. “Why didn’t you tell me any of this before? Why did you feel like you could share it with everyone else but not me?” This inevitably will lead me to feel as shitty as I have made you feel.
You’ll ask the questions I listed above, and then I’ll have to explain why sometimes I don’t feel safe sharing things with you. I’ll tell you it’s because I often feel judged. Or like you’re listening but you don’t really understand, and you’ll want to understand so you’ll ask questions, but they way they come out makes me feel like I’m sitting in an interrogation room. Then I’ll shut down and you’ll get defensive and nothing good will come from that.
You’ll blame yourself. My struggles are mine, not yours. But I know the martyrdom/carry-the-load syndrome you suffer from because I suffer from it, too. And in some weird way, by me not sharing things with you, it’s like I’m protecting you from feeling that sense of blame.
I don’t know if you’ve ever gone through this stuff, too. I’d like to ask. But I’m afraid. I don’t want to open old wounds. It took me a long time to be able to talk about these things. And I mean this in the most loving way, but I don’t think you’re there yet.
So. Will I share any of this on Instagram, where this family member might see it? I don’t know.
If I do, will I take this blog post down first? I also don’t know.
Maybe I will work on all of this with my coach tomorrow. It’s funny how I’ve gotten pretty good at helping other people through challenging emotional situations, but still can’t do it for myself.