Ha ha ha ha ha.
I looked up an alternate word for the word “sucks”. I mean… my writing, I realize is a tad ummmmm…. “raw” but sometimes – SOMETIMES – I do attempt to temper it with vocabulary my readers will not find quite so sensitive. “Extracts” was a bit better than “sucks” but hell. Let’s be honest:
Being vulnerable fucking SUCKs.
Tis true. Don’t argue. Just don’t. I already know what you’re going to say. Just like I can listen to five minutes of a sermon by any preacher and tell you what matter of the heart he is going to call you later to the front to repent of with a box of Kleenex and a face which assumingly tries to show a caring spirit – I can call out your argument before you have a chance to make it.
“Now Shane…” I hear you. “You’re being unreasonable.”
Yes and no. Being vulnerable means being alive. It means taking a chance. It means we will FEEL. Happiness. Sadness. Passion. Exhaustion. Disappointment. Elation. Security. The list goes infinitely on.
Ultimately, being vulnerable can double, I think, with one word:
Who do we open our hearts to? To whom do we divulge secrets? Who are the recipients of our deepest desires, our hatreds, and our hopes and dreams?
Those we come to trust.
Those with no judgment; not that they don’t offer advice or admonishment – the people we trust the most ARE the ones who will be the first ones to express their concerns and question our actions. Out of true caring as opposed to jealousy or ill will.
However, sometimes being vulnerable sucks. Because it usually requires taking a chance. A testing of the waters. One cannot learn to trust another unless the waters of “confidant-ism” are, indeed, investigated.
I am in the process of becoming vulnerable. Vulnerable to a man. Yikes. A double-edged sword. There are more aspects to this type of vulnerability than simply the divulging of secrets. There’s a physical laying bare, an emotional abandonment and mental raping.
It’s beautiful and I love it.
It’s painful and I hate it.
However, it is proof I am alive and living regardless of the outcome. We are alive. We should take chances. Outgrow the past; embrace the future. And remember, once in awhile, it is fine – even encouraged – to be open and honest and vulnerable despite the fact the results may be disastrous. Not because we expect the worst in a fatal way but more because we hope rainbows will shine where once hurricanes prevailed.
To fall in love is to fall into vulnerability. To be susceptible to being hurt. I smile because I can be hurt. It means I have a heart of tenderness yet despite the ability I have to being hardened. It means my world can yet be expanded and my heart has the opportunity to be that much fuller.
Yet it means standing on a precipice of rejection should its recipient not be as enthusiastic.
Sigh. I am determined to take the chance. Experience the feeling of unbeknownst expectation. It does suck but, like everything else in life, perhaps its pain will lead to the golden path of truth and make me an uninhibited lover. After all…. I cannot accept anyone less than the man who will accept me – with my intensity, flaws, and all.