Armour, Linen, and Open Hearts

Valentine’s Day makes me think about hearts. About my own, which as you know if you have been reading along, has been fixed to work properly by a surgeon over 40 years ago.  Valentine’s Day is my birthday, and I try to remember what a gift my working heart and each birthday is as a result of that surgery.

But what I really think more about is hearts and their capacity to love, and more so, about their capacity to be open and welcoming.

I think about how so many people close off their hearts to others, and to themselves. Mostly to themselves. How that is usually because of varying levels of fear or anxiety.  And this week, leading up to Valentine’s Day, I am thinking about open hearts, vulnerability, and bravery and how they coexist.

Tell me, when you think of the words Bravery and Vulnerability, do you associate both words with strength?  Instinctively when I think bravery I think of an armed soldier or a medieval armoured guard.  And I instinctively envision a person or animal that needs protecting when I hear the word vulnerable. I picture both of these things only because society and media has always created this portrait.

We are conditioned to believe that we need to armour up to be brave, and that we are weak if we are vulnerable. And both of these are so far from the truth.

A suit of armour is heavy and awkward. It doesn’t breathe well. It will protect us from sharp objects, but nothing can get out. What we need to be brave is a lightness, and ability to be flexible. We need an outfit made of breathable linen.

Very recently a friend of mine’s daughter has been sick. I have seen myself mirrored in her need to be at the hospital, and have been feeling the impacts of knowing how everyone around her is encouraging her bravery.  What I hear in these moments is people telling my childhood self to be brave, and the way I handled that at the time was to stuff all the feeling of being scared or angry deep down and out of sight. I can tell you that 40 years later that still feels like a ball in my chest and I regret not having been encouraged to feel the fear and the anger at the time.

You see, while metal armor seemed like a good idea at the time, I am living proof that what it does is trap all the feelings that need to be processed.  I wish that when I was a kid I had been able to cry more.  That someone had told me that it was okay to be scared, and that I didn’t have to be brave.  That I could sit with the feelings I had of being sad for missing out, or scared in a hospital.  Because the thing that happens is that when you push those feelings aside and try to armor up against them you just end up carrying them around with you. I mean, what else is there to do with them? Stack them over and over again with no release.  You teach yourself how to not feel things, and I am here to tell you that 40 years later that manifests like a heavy weight in your chest that you don’t know how to remove.

I also want to tell you that it is okay to be scared, and to not be brave, and to feel all the unsettling feelings!

I want to wear beautiful breathable linen, not armour.  And I encourage anyone reading this to think about what you want to wear in the face of fear as well.

Whether your fear is around showing up as your true self, telling someone that you are actually afraid of something, being honest about how you feel about a certain thing, feeling like you are in over your head, are worrying about your mortality; or if you don’t want to drive and park at an unfamiliar place, are afraid of being on an airplane, or not trusting yourself to book a trip to a location you have never visited before, I promise that there are people out there who will relate to you and feel a relief in you sharing what is in your heart.  And, if they don’t, those aren’t your people and they are most likely threatened by your vulnerability because they may be afraid of their own.  Those people need some grace, and also space, but know that their reaction to your vulnerability is not about you, but about them.

This brings me to how I have been thinking about vulnerability, and how it coexists with bravery. And also, how it relates to Valentine’s Day, a day of love!

Webster’s Dictionary defines vulnerability as capable of being physically or emotionally wounded, or open to attack or damage.  I don’t like that last part. While I agree with it in the context of a physical medical wound, as in being vulnerable to infection as an example, I think it is important to know that leaving ourselves open to sharing our vulnerable feelings is not about leaving ourselves open to attack.

Vulnerability is such a hugely underrated strength when it comes to our thoughts, feelings and ideas. It leaves us open to connection with others, and even more importantly, with ourselves.  It can lead us to a kinder, softer open heart and a welcoming space for others. It can lead to love in its truest form. More importantly, it leads to growth, and new experiences.

I’ve heard, and so too have many of you I am sure, Brene Brown talk about being vulnerable. She talks about how vulnerability comes in our ability to share our truest feelings without hesitation. That is such scary work, and instinctively many people resist that or wear the suit of armour when it comes to sharing what is truly in their heart. Including both love, and fear. I don’t need a google search to tell me that memoirs are one of the literary genres that most people gravitate toward.  People want to read other people’s stories as a way to find something relatable, and as a way to be inspired. We deep down want to share our own stories and find someone to relate to them, but most of us just armour up and keep things inside.

I started this blog, and the stories that go along with it when I wanted to be brave. But in hindsight that isn’t actually what I wanted at all.  I wanted to be okay with being scared, and I had to be vulnerable with myself to admit what I was scared of in the first place.  I’m still working on that.

I promise that bravery as we tend to think of it, is not accurate.  And that vulnerability is stronger than steel. And a suit of armour is not the answer, but a beautiful flowing linen top is. 

Is there something that you can remove the armour about? Something that would feel as free as flowing linen if you allowed yourself vulnerability?

CLICK HERE if you would like to support and encourage my writing by buying me a coffee :)