A guest post by an anonymous writer, which will be an ongoing series.
Please join us on her journey!
I have been thinking a lot about how my journey has forced me to become more vulnerable. Some extent of vulnerability is necessary just to get a diagnosis. Then comes the treatment component. Physical vulnerability is just a part of the process - mammograms, MRI's, tests, exams, surgeries. Emotional vulnerability is another component, one which I was determined I was NOT going to subject myself to. I tried to separate myself from the process to avoid emotional vulnerability. I sort of went through the motions as a kind of observer of the process for as long as I could.
I am not "good" at vulnerability. I am totally uncomfortable with exposing myself. Being authentic was always something I prided myself on. I was an "open book" for a long time. I was just "myself" with no apologies. I loved that part of myself - not caring what anyone thought. I would like to think I still do not care what anyone thinks of me, but if I am honest, that just is not the case. Too many things have happened in my adulthood that have made me a lot more guarded and protective - probably to an unhealthy extent. After my diagnosis I was quite thankful I had learned to be more guarded, to not show myself to very many people. It made me stronger in a sense, more able to handle any news, treatment option, or plan without much regard for how I felt about it. I was being strictly reasonable about it - studying my options as an observer of my own life - not a part of it emotionally - using only facts to drive my decisions.
This approach worked for a while. I was very matter of fact about the entire situation. I never cried about it - just trudged on to the next decision. This all changed the day mastectomy became the best course of action. I was surprised by my reaction, but I cried in the radiologist's office. Then I cried talking to the surgeon. Then I went back to being matter of fact for a few months to decide what to do. By the time I decided on a bilateral mastectomy (both sides) I was back to crying about it. All this time I was going it alone - mostly. Only a few people knew what I was going through. None of my friends knew. I had only told a few of my sisters and of course my husband and kids.
At some point, complete vulnerability became a necessary evil (in my mind). I had no choice but to face it all, emotionally, in order to tell extended family, and then to start this blog series. As I became more comfortable with being vulnerable, I started to tell anyone who would listen and cried to more people than I care to admit. Essentially, I was becoming more of that authentic self that I used to love about me.
There were a lot of benefits to allowing myself to be vulnerable:
- I FELT better to some extent, feeling like I was no longer alone.
- I received the support I would not have otherwise received (through support groups, childcare and meals provided after surgeries, words of encouragement from others).
- I was able to write things that may have helped others.
- I found some purpose for what I was going through.
Despite all the benefits, I struggled with being so vulnerable. I still felt horrible about being so exposed. Every time I would tell someone, ask for prayer, inadvertently cry about it to someone while talking about it, I felt torn - like this vulnerability was a mistake. I have a hard time discerning who actually cares and who is just being "nice". When I did not receive any response about a way I felt or didn't have people checking on me I would wonder if I should have told anyone. I still feel this way at times.
A few weeks ago I made a hard decision to share my blog with a particular person I am not and never will be close with but thought it would encourage. At first, it was received well, but over time has seemed like a horrible mistake. I have felt exposed and judged because of that decision. I feel like the gesture was misunderstood and I have felt worse about that than I have about any choice I have made for vulnerability thus far.
I am still struggling with vulnerability. I was supposed to be done with this whole process in July. I am now ready for this to be a chapter of my life to be over - to close the book on it. To pretend it never happened. That is where I am right now. I just want to be done with it. I want to go back to the way things were. I want to not have to doubt things I share or how people react. I wonder, because of my experience with vulnerability - how raw and emotional it has made me feel (something I am totally uncomfortable with) - if I will ever be able to make the choice for vulnerability again. I would like to think I have learned that vulnerability is worth it. I am not so sure. I wonder if instead, I will become even more guarded in the future than I was before this whole chapter began (if that is even possible).
I want to believe vulnerability is worth it. I am just not there yet...because sometimes it isn't. Vulnerability is a risk. Now to decide: Is it a risk worth taking?
For now I am holding on to the knowledge that I am not alone, even when I feel like I am:
"Even when it feels like my world is shaken, even when I've had all that I can take, I know you never let me go...I know no matter how it ends, you're with me even then"
(See video below)
For now I am holding on to the knowledge that I am not alone, even when I feel like I am:
"Even when it feels like my world is shaken, even when I've had all that I can take, I know you never let me go...I know no matter how it ends, you're with me even then"
(See video below)
Read other posts in this series:
