adjective: susceptible to physical or emotional attack or harm
Vulnerabilities come in all shapes and sizes. They disguise themselves as doubts and worries and fears. I hate them. I want to be better. I want to be stronger. I want to be wiser than that.
But they come to us all, to be sure. Sometimes they are imagined and other times they are seen with the heart or the mind or even the eyes. For me, I tend to be most vulnerable to situations I can not change. Circumstances I do not agree with. As in…I want others to be better, to want more for themselves. Most often I want others to see their own paths to success. To work harder, be goal oriented. When they don’t or can’t I spend all my tossing and turning wondering how I can intercede. Where do I start? What can I do? How can I help? But what I’ve learned is that I can’t fix what others don’t even see as broken. And I can’t put my own ideals and dreams on others. Somehow my brain knowing this doesn’t help my heart.
I’ve had my fair share of vulnerabilities lately. Emotional attacks. They erode my spirit. Leave cracks in my soul. They make me question life. What is important? Why? Being susceptible is definitely only human. And what does not break me makes me stronger. Perhaps there is a power in opening myself up to vulnerabilities. After all, if I am not compassionate then how can I be sympathetic? And if I am not sympathetic then what? Indifference? Not a chance! I want more, for myself and for those I love. More health. More happiness. More beauty. I wish I had a magic wand to bibbity bobbity boo blessings where I see fit. But until I figure that out I remain emotionally susceptible, full of compassion and sympathy and replete of vulnerabilities, and you know what? I kind of like that about myself.
“What makes you vulnerable makes you beautiful.”