Vulnerability is a tiny flower, so tiny it’s hard to notice that it’s actually a ballerina – what you think are flower petals are actually her tutu.
But if you get in close enough to see that she’s a ballerina and not a flower – you’re too close.
It’s harder for her to dance when someone can see that it’s a dance and not just petals bouncing in the breeze.? So hard that sometimes she just freezes up and cries and hopes you’ll go away.
Not that she doesn’t like you, of course.? It’s just that what if you don’t like her dance?
No one really judges the way a flower bounces in the wind.? People do judge the way ballerinas dance.? And this ballerina cares so much about the world that she wants to delight it.
Vulnerability wants to hide.? But she can’t delight the world if she stays in hiding.? So she camouflages instead.
When I feel vulnerable I don’t feel like a delicate tiny ballerina at all.? When I feel vulnerable I feel raw.? I feel like a giant and like everyone can see me and everyone can tell that I am just barely keeping it together.
The tiniest things get magnified when I feel vulnerable.
So what can the ballerina teach me about navigating being in an uncomfortable state of vulnerability?
(Because sometimes I feel vulnerable and it’s not uncomfortable)
Camouflage.? It’s a way of creating safety.
But camouflage is a way of fitting into a world that I don’t want to fit in with.
Oh.? Well that reminds me that vulnerability is actually a part of living my truth which is actually really important to me so damn.
Being vulnerable means my heart is exposed.
And that’s actually exactly how I want to live.