3.6 Vulnerable strength
What does vulnerable mean? Check with the dictionary or listen to common usage and it means…
Defenseless, prone to getting hurt, open to attack, exposed, unprotected, unguarded, weak, woundable.
Would you ever want to lead from those places? Of course not.
But then what about the opposite? Invulnerable. That word means…
Impregnable, untouchable, up-armored, unfeeling.
What a choice. You’ve got either…
Vulnerable, which is victim.
Or…
Invulnerable, which is cold and distant.
And this is not just a theoretical discussion. Cold-heartedness works well for so many politicians and business leaders. How could Wall Street executives feel for people, the great majority of Americans, and still do what they do?
How could members of Congress feel for the next generation and still do what they do?
We who are fighting for social change and social justice have to lead in a very different way. We have to lead from our caring, with our hearts open, not shut down, and that makes us vulnerable, and what do we need to do about that?
How about a bit of alchemy? Let’s take vulnerability, and combine it with an adjective that might see to be its opposite, to get…
Gutsy vulnerability.
Which is…
A special kind of vulnerability which makes you stronger.
Let’s take a look at what happened for Anna when she decided to quit being self-protective and let people in on her vulnerability.
Anna: Most of my staff are parents of young children and sometimes at the end of the day, just as everyone’s getting ready to go home, I look around the office and think how much they depend on me. My fundraising is what produces their paychecks so they can take care of their families.
Rich: And so…
Anna: I drive myself hard to raise the money we need. And I do a good job of it because I demanded excellence of myself in everything I do. I always got A-pluses in school.
Rich: And the problem is?
Anna: I’ve developed a hard-driving, how-to excellence. I know how to perform, but not how to relate. So I’m lonely at the top. Or just lonely in general.
Rich: So…
Anna: I went home one night feeling both like a failure, but also, and this felt really weird, like an egg way overdue for hatching. I stopped in front of my hall mirror and started talking with myself.
Rich: How did it go?
Anna: At first I criticized myself because I was so frustrated: “You’ve worked so hard, how come you don’t feel closer to people? Here are these people you work with all day every day. And friends you’ve had for years. Where’s your A-plus when it comes to relationships?”
And then, I don’t know why, I thought of my keepsake box on the shelf in my closet. In that box was the magic wand I used to carry with me as a little girl when I’d dress up as the fairytale princess, which was the only thing I ever wanted to be on Halloween for seven years in a row.
I got it out, and came back to the mirror. My eyes were big. I touched my mirror forehead with the wand.
And suddenly I could feel how much I was hurting. And how much I let the responsibilities of being ED run me. I had my professional persona down cold. But that was the problem—cold. I drove myself hard But that hardened me.
My mom says October is still her favorite month because of the memories she has of how I enrolled family and friends in my fairy tale adventures all month long leading up to Halloween. She said she loved following me into my imaginary world because I was having so much fun with it myself.
So holding the wand again, and I looked at this person in the mirror, who had just decided to embrace her hurting, and her longing for what was missing in her life. She started giving me sweet, shy glances. And I heard her whisper yes, not to competence, but to adventure.
Rich: And then?
Anna: The next morning at work I noticed my staff noticing me, trying to figure out what was different. I was in a playful mood but I didn’t want to tell them my secret, I wanted to show them.
I bantered with them, I flirted with them—not the romantic kind, but the kind where you’re flirting possibilities—and then I started dancing them into a new relationship with me.
Rich: And your hurting?
Anna: I had been scared that if I wasn’t a proper ED, exuding the conventional kind of confidence and jingling all over with best practices, then people wouldn’t approve of me. But over the next couple weeks I started letting people in on what was behind my change.
Rich: Their response?
Anna: Corrie said she preferred the raw version of me instead of the polished version. Irina said she had always been a fan, but now she had a place for me in her heart. Davis asked me to help him become more vulnerable himself. Betsy said she felt herself reaching deeper, wanting to give me more.
Ethan’s story was different…
Ethan: People declared me a success. But I didn’t feel it.
Rich: What did you feel?
Ethan: The doldrums. Like being an ED was not the right match for me. And yet it was so right for me and I was doing good, solid work. But how could it be right if it didn’t make me happy?
Rich: So…
Ethan: I went to see a therapist who also did career counseling and told her I needed a new line of work.
Rich: And her reaction?
Ethan: She started asking me questions, all kinds of questions. It puzzled me, so I said, “Where are we going with this?” And she said, “I have no idea. Do you?” And I said, “No.” And she said, “Great, then let’s go there!”
In our third session, she suddenly pulled up short, and said, “Okay, this is out of the blue, except maybe it’s not: How does shame show up in your life?”
Well, that was a shocker. Shame is not something I’ve ever let myself think about. I blurted, “Why would you ask me that?” I could feel my defenses rise up ready for a fight.
And she said, “Oh, because now I know where we’re going, because notice your response to my question. There’s something here for you. A gift. But it doesn’t feel like that, does it?”
“It sure doesn’t.”
“Take a breath and tell me how easy is it for people to give you things, like when it’s your birthday.”
“I don’t like celebrating my birthday. I try to slip past it without anyone noticing.”
“Do they notice?”
“Yes, and they give me a party.”
“And you?”
“I grin and bear it.”
“And what about when people love you, how easy is it for you to take that in?”
“Oh, I see. I’m not good at that. Everyone says I’m a sweetheart. But Cindy, my last girlfriend said she was so frustrated because I always treated her so well but then I never let her love me back. She said she had so much she wanted to give me but I didn’t let her give it.”
There’s a lot more to this story, but the short version is that Diane, that’s my therapist, got me talking about shame. At first I was tentative, but then it all came out in a rush. I think because it was such a relief to quit covering up and tell the truth.
And what I came to see is that from childhood on up, my core belief about myself has been that I’m not lovable. But for me it wasn’t just a belief, it a stone-cold fact. So no wonder I didn’t let people love me. I didn’t want them to waste themselves on me.
Rich: And then in terms of leading?
Ethan: Direct parallel. Just like I didn’t let people give me their love, I didn’t let my staff give me their following, if that makes sense.
Rich: Say more.
Ethan: I’ve learned that following is a gift. And a leader needs to be receptive, needs to take it in, really take it in, and love taking it in.
My sense of shame was blocking that. Of course, you don’t make a lifetime of shame go away overnight, but the spell is broken and now I’m learning new things.
Rich: Like?
Ethan: Being in touch with my personal pain is making me more resilient. And somehow more accessible.
And I don’t know how this happens because I haven’t told my staff anything about my work in therapy. But they’re responding to me like never before. Me going down to the bottom of my hard stuff is making them way happier.
Lydia told me…
Odd, don’t you think? My aura used to be jagged and sizzling with stress. Once I let myself be vulnerable, and got to liking it, my persona switched to sunny warmth. Most days I feel like purring. My staff loves this.
But not the cohort of EDs I used to hang out with. Georgette said, “You’re a curve wrecker.” She tried to make it sound like a joke, but there was an edge to her voice.
What did she mean? Well, the main thing the five of us did together was complain. But that was a smokescreen. It was a defense. The complaining kept us from getting down to the real source of our unhappiness. It kept us from being the kind of friends I wish we could have been for each other.
Letting myself really hurt when I’m hurting means that I get through stuff and don’t hold onto it and so I don’t have to hurt as much anymore.
Vulnerability, the gutsy kind, the kind infused with moral-fight, is full of surprises.
