December 26, 2011

I’m on a raft alone, paddling through class 5 rapids.  In the dream my eye catches a place on shore to pull over and rest but the current pulls me down to the next set of rapids where I’m tossed and swirled and have no sense of the direction I’m supposed to be traveling.  The water is angry and as it threatens to reach up and drag me out of the raft and under the surface, my fear is that I’ll never be able to catch my breath. 

Vulnerability.  The emotion that terrifies me most.  The feeling that I am helpless, at risk, in danger.  An odd choice so late on this cold Christmas night as I search for the right words to describe my frustration.  Wondering why I was allowed to enjoy the holiday with my family and friends today while Barbara, Joannie and Patty were not.  It’s been five months since the last of their deaths, yet my struggle to make sense of their loss refuses to lie down and be still.  Our society is transfixed by intransigence where narrow-minded ideologues scream angrily to keep people out rather than embracing them and offering them a chair at the table of civilized debate.  In a polarized world like that, how can I honor these three ladies with dignity rather than sloppy sentimentality or mean-spirited exclusion?   

According to Brene Brown, a researcher at the University of Houston’s Graduate College of Social Work, the essence of my quandary lies at the feet of vulnerability (my most unfavorite emotion).   In her work she discovered that vulnerability is what allows us to be seen as the people we really are, not the people we try to convince others we are.  The people in her study who described vulnerability as “necessary” rather than “excruciating” were able to do so because they believed they were worthy of receiving all that love and a sense of belonging.  That sense of worthiness gave them the courage to be imperfect, to let others see when their emotional slips were showing because it was who they really were. 

The desire to numb vulnerability is normal.  It’s painful.  We’re one of the most privileged populations on the planet yet we’re also the most in debt, obese and addicted as we desperately seek ways to avoid that pain.  Here’s the catch.  Pain-numbing is an all or nothing game: we either feel everything or nothing.  Whatever we use to numb the emotional pain also keeps us from feeling positive emotions like joy and happiness, leaving us with a pale, flat version of ourselves who still don’t believe we’re worthy of love and belonging.  What is up with that?

In this video presentation, Brown reminds us that we all deserve to give ourselves the gift of vulnerability because it offers meaningful benefits:

• The compassion to be kind to ourselves, because we can’t be compassionate to others if we cannot practice it on ourselves first. 
• The connection to let go of who we thought we should be.  
• To fully embrace vulnerability and know that it makes us beautiful. 
• Not to view it as comfortable or excruciating but a necessity, a place where we’re willing to say something as risky as “I love you” with no guarantees.

So, although I’ve tried hard to avoid it, the best way to honor Barbara, Joannie and Patti is to stop and feel the pain of their absences in my life, not run away from it.  To allow myself to laugh and cry with their memories rather than pushing them away.  And to continue to grow physically and mentally stronger as I take another and another step away from the disease that still connects us.

Please accept this video reminder as my Christmas gift to you this year.  And I hope you’ll join my prayers for a world where there is less screaming and more listening.  Hallelujah!