I'm Vulnerable

There's a War in Hollywood. And that war is to be right, to win, to conquer, to succeed, to prove everyone in your life who has ever doubted you wrong, to gain wealth and to be validated, among countless other things.

Replace "Hollywood" with countless other forms of validation: Family, Relationships, Work, etc. And in order to go to war we have to be impervious to pain and suffering. Or so we think. We put on our Armor and we go into Battle to Win. And in order to do that we need to be absolutely certain. When I was studying Kabbalah briefly almost a decade ago, the mantra was about absolute certainty. You need to be certain and to have extreme knowing. There was no room for doubt and very little room for vulnerability.  Like many spiritual practices, it was about the power of extreme will. The Secret is another example of this. We don't hear so much about those belief systems anymore. And they work so well in Hollywood circles because it's all about putting on that armor and going to war. It's an aggressive reaction to an aggressive environment.

But I've been listening to Dr. Brene Brown on Super Soul Sunday (you know I love it). And much of her study has been in the area of vulnerability. For me, being vulnerable is about having the courage to expose yourself and be truthful, warts and all, when it's much easier to pretend to be stronger, more successful, or smarter than you actually are in the moment. Being softer and being more exposed invites people in instead of keeping them out. If people don't know you're suffering, then they can't reach out and help. For me, practicing vulnerability has helped me have greater understanding of other people and it has encouraged patience for myself.

It's really what I've been talking about when I've talked about going to my father's hospital bed and sitting beside him. It's allowing myself to talk to him when it would be easier to not say anything because of my own fear of being rejected or pushed aside by him. I have to say that my father never once made me feel ashamed for taking care of him. He might have been angry about it or pushed back, but he never said I was weak or sad or a loser for wanting to take care of him. He never attacked me on a personal level. And in the ways he was capable of committing to vulnerability, he allowed himself to be exposed quite physically. He allowed himself to be taken care of by his son. So if I have no other proof that vulnerability makes my life better, that's the one I will hold onto forever. And it's the example that helped in changing things around for me.

I was raised to be tough. Because I'm gay and had to be ready for a fight at all times, I was trained to not let my vulnerability show. And some of that was necessary for survival. No one fucks with me. And that has been useful. But what I forgot to do was to take the armor off. Maybe I needed it so much that I couldn't take it off in my youth. But I never got the memo for when it was okay to take it off. And honestly, I encouraged the continuation of emotional warfare. Because when someone sees the armor, they also assume that there's a war going on and they put on their armor and get ready for a fight. When the armor's not on, it's a sign that it's time for peace. So I did just as much to encourage the continuation of emotional warfare as anyone else.

I've had to really practice vulnerability in my life over the past several years. I try to be as open as possible about everywhere I am in my life. I try to be truthful, even when that truth doesn't paint me as the most successful, capable,  on track person. It is vulnerable to talk about my writing process. It's vulnerable to expose myself, both when I'm incredibly productive and when I'm struggling. It's vulnerable to talk about struggling emotionally and financially. It's vulnerable to stand in my truth and be where I am right now. It's vulnerable to admit that I don't know what lies ahead of me. To not appear as the guy who has his shit together is vulnerable. I never understood why people were not coming to my aid. I never asked them to. I never shared that I was drowning. Because I, like everyone, saw vulnerability as weakness.

Now I ask for help a lot. That was hard for me. But being in a place in my life where I could be honest about who I am has made me feel less alone. Because I don't buy into this idea of having to be uber competitive and at war at all times, sometimes I feel left out of the game. But the more I see what that game is, the less interested I am in it. Now, does that mean that I can't have a career? No. Because that warfare, like I said earlier, exists everywhere. You can't escape the war mentality. So many people want to win and to be seen as winners. And the belief is that if you get yourself out of the game, then it shifts the power so that those people who believe in warfare will get what they want anyway and probably sooner since you "dropped out of the game." But what I've come to believe about myself is that I have to believe in the everyday successes.

That's where gratitude comes in. And that's where this idea of not being goal-oriented comes in. If I'm only able to feel joy when I reach a huge accomplishment or when someone acknowledges me, then most of my life is going to be pretty hard to endure. I will be in a constant state of feeling like a failure. But if I get my joy from the work I do and I get more joy from doing more work, which means that I am in charge of generating my own joy because I'm always working, then I'm always feeling satisfied. And that satisfaction and validation is self-created. Self-validation is the key for me. And because I'm working constantly and the light is always on in the workshop, then people will know where to find me. I don't need to constantly keep my eye on the clock, wondering when they're coming. It makes that outside check-in irrelevant. I'm less focused on when they're coming. And for me, my practice has been about constantly working on things. About constantly keeping the light on. And you know what, people know where to find me. I'm a writer. They know it. I have stuff to show. I have readings for them to attend and scripts for them to read.

I can't say that I wouldn't have been ready for outward success earlier in my life. There would have been a different kind of course correction happening if that was the case. But I can say that I experience success every day. I wanted to be a writer. I am. I haven't always been. But that's all I wanted. Now if I want more, I probably should focus on going beyond that. If I want money, I can get money. Does that mean other things will be sacrificed? I won't know if I don't try. But it's bad to convince myself that somehow I give up the things that I love because of that. That it's an either/or situation. Because that's a lot of message I'm telling myself as well. That because I'm not rich from writing, it means that being rich from writing is bad. No, it just means that I'm jealous. I have friends who are rich from writing. Does that make them any less? Does that mean that they "bought in" or "sold out?" No. It means that they are rich from writing. And that's all it means. If they attach something to it, then fine. But I'm not. I have my armor off. If I keep my armor on, then that becomes a battle that I don't need to fight.

I am grateful for time in the morning to think.
I am grateful for a steady flow of ideas.
I am grateful for the music in my head.
I am grateful for the state of continuous motion I am experiencing.
I am grateful for the love in my heart.
I am grateful for my ears.
I am grateful for my eyes.
I am grateful for my ability to feel.
I am grateful to know what course I am on despite the gravitational pull.
I am grateful for my choices.
I am grateful for my constantly typing fingers.