I’ve been thinking a lot about the sacredness of vulnerability. I’ve always been an all-in, heart on my sleeve type of person. An artistic empath drawn to humanity’s stories & connections. But something about the last few years—the brutality & trauma of it all on both a personal & larger social scale of things has cut to the quick of me & left me asking big questions. This intensity of my heart… this depth of feeling that I’ve always considered my greatest strength… this Thing that makes me who I am & connects me to the world around me—well, it’s quite the double edged sword, isn’t it? Because it turns out that vulnerability isn’t all just poetry & romantic expression of feelings; no, it’s also a surgical central line that allows direct access for substance to flow both FROM and TO the very heart of you—and sometimes what flows IN isn’t always as sterile or compassionate as what you send OUT into the world, is it? Once you choose to install the port of vulnerability & give away access to it, you also open yourself up to certain risks.
Maybe it’s yet another side effect of unexpectedly entering the world of special needs motherhood, but the risks of being vulnerable have never “rung my bell” quite so hard before. Respect many, but trust few. Close down like a clam. Shut up, shield, volunteer no information. Watch, observe, protect. That has been my gut instinct in this post-pandemic world. It’s gutted me; it’s gutted my art. It’s the direct result of trauma & deep moral injury that came from living in a community that didn’t care about protecting its vulnerable from a virus it didn’t believe in. The world has moved on & yet our children’s hospital is currently beyond capacity & mothers like me of high risk children are fatigued physically & emotionally. We have scars. We fall into each other’s DMs exhausted & looking for comfort knowing that’s the only place we’ll find it: “We’re here again? How much longer can we do this?! Hold on. I see you.”
Still, I hope I can open up again someday. I hope I can learn to feel safe again. I hope my compassion & vulnerability find their way back to my sleeve, & I can hold my 💛 out there to receive & to give once more, soon.
