The Trap of Vulnerability

By: Valini Sukhu

Sometimes I think I overshare. Growing up, it was a quality that bothered me about myself. As a social person, I love meeting new people. Connecting by sharing relatable stories about myself or being open about my feelings has opened so many doors and given me many rich friendships, but lately I’ve been wondering, what’s the cost of my vulnerability? 

Google tells me vulnerability is “the quality or state of being exposed to the possibility of being attacked or harmed, either physically or emotionally”. This surprised me. When I think about the ways I connect with others, I never think I’m putting myself at risk of being attacked. To me, if something that I say could help someone feel safe or change their perspective, then it’s worth the risk. 

As a student of history, the principle that you must learn from the past or be doomed to repeat it runs deep. I’ve learned that my growth stems from my ability to reflect on the mistakes I’ve made and be honest with myself. Along the way, some of those reflections have become a part of me and I'm okay with talking about those pieces of myself because they introduce me to others when I tell my story.

Yet these days, I feel a bit lost. I’ve become increasingly aware that my ability to be vulnerable is not as common as I would like. Growing up West Indian, we’re told not to talk about our business. “How will it look?” they’ll ask, if you open up the hardest part of yourselfs, welcome judgement willingly, and perhaps also ask others to see you in a different light. But in this era of social media, everything can be shared. What are we truly sharing? Are we honest? Are our personal relationships truly deep or are they superficial and dishonest? On Instagram turning up, live, laugh, loving, but when a friend asks how you are—do you lie? 

It’s a challenge walking the tightrope of contradiction. Personally, I’ve recognized that some relationships depend on my ability to be vulnerable. It's something that my loved ones have said they admire about me: my ability to be mushy and emotional. Yet I’ve learned that it costs those pieces of myself to open up and I also recognize that others may not provide that same level of comfort to me. It can be lonely, especially in a world that encourages us to share within a culture that tells us that we shouldn't. 

I know what you’re thinking—“Isn’t this entire piece you being vulnerable?” Well, yes. My experience has remained the same. When I am open and honest, it helps build a connection with someone who may not have spoken deeply otherwise. That’s something that I don't want to change about myself. I’ve talked about broken friendships, miscarriage, postpartum depression, my anger and in those moments, someone has always told me that my ability to talk about it has made it less shameful for them. Sometimes it allows them to open up to someone else who I hope in turn returns the feeling. 

Taboos can only be broken when we talk. Miscommunication can only be resolved when we talk. It can really feel like a trap because I bare my soul knowing it can be used against me but it’s also a beautiful quality that I’ve cultivated. I’m learning to be more intentional, about connecting deeply with people who reciprocate the level of vulnerability that I’m at but also walking that tightrope so that relationships remain meaningful. There is a cost to vulnerability—I hope you think about what that means to you.