On Being Vulnerable
Vulnerability- willingness to show emotion or to allow one’s weaknesses to be seen or known; willingness to risk being emotionally hurt.
Vulnerability- The quality or state of being exposed to the possibility of being attacked or harmed, either physically or emotionally.
Vulnerability and mental wellness is a tough topic for many of us. I feel this especially as a Black woman in the United States. Oftentimes, we feel the need to hide our emotions from others for a number of reasons that can change depending on who you talk to. We have very real experiences of being open with others and then suffering as a result. Instead of sharing our struggles, we often choose to suffer in silence as a means of protection from harm, additional judgment, having our feelings dismissed or used against us, or being seen as incapable. This is a valid response, and Dr. Karey Yazeed, behavioral scientist, author, and speaker gives an excellent overview of this. It is important, however, to consider how opening ourselves up to our trusted community or even one friend (If we have one) can bring healing during times of hardship.
About a month ago, I suffered a tragic pregnancy loss. My world was shattered as the child I had been dreaming about planted itself in the wall of my left fallopian tube, causing a life-threatening ectopic pregnancy. An emergency surgery combined with the trauma and grief of losing a life I hoped to come into this world left me numb. I wept severely for days (and still do at times). Everything was hard. Not being able to exercise for my mental health, not having the capacity to cook, watching my husband struggle because he was sad that I was suffering, it was clear we needed help. It’s hard to comprehend these feelings if you haven’t gone through it, but a lot of my mental state was mirrored in a recent Modern Love article by Lori Vogt Rosone.
Admittedly, it was hard to open up and share what was going on. I didn’t want other people to feel responsible for making me feel “better” or heal me overnight. I felt that this problem was extremely personal, and I didn’t want to open myself up to judgment and stigma behind pregnancy loss. Additionally, I felt ashamed and extremely naive because I allowed myself to be so excited so early on, full well knowing that miscarriages and pregnancy loss happen often; however, I took a leap of faith, silenced the fear for a moment and shared. The outcome was truly beautiful as my community embraced my pain and shared their love with me.
I received so much. People gifted me with stories of their losses, some of which I felt were worse than mine. This grew my sense of comfort in knowing that I was not alone. Those same people gave me hope for a future, sharing about their successes and offering themselves as support. My closest friends offered to travel and spend time. Others sent love in the form of gift cards and meal delivery that helped us navigate the loss and just have peace. I received flowers to brighten the home, and the calls and text messages added some sense of normalcy as it allowed me to continue talking through and accepting what had happened.
The emotional, physical, financial, spiritual support - and let’s not forget therapy - made it easier to start healing. And that’s why I want to encourage people, especially Black women to share their stories and dream beyond the narrative that we are always unsafe in doing so. Understanding that there are barriers we face, we can cultivate community in those we trust who have our best interest at heart. It can start small with one friend, but don’t be afraid to reach out to someone, even if it’s to me.
Resources:
For Pregnancy Loss:
For Emotional Support/Suicidal Ideation:
