I used to struggle with vulnerability. I needed everyone to believe I had it all together. A beautiful apartment, nice car, thriving career, and fulfilling friendships. I wanted to have it all, and while I worked hard to get there, I wanted everyone to think I was already there. I didn't want them to know I could barely afford my apartment, I didn't like my car, my job wasn't satisfying, and my friendships were shallow.
I maintained a beautiful lifestyle, but it was all a perfectly fabricated facade. If anyone could see through it, they never let me know, and I went on for years blinding people to my unhappiness. I didn't trust people and I sucked at vulnerability.
Being vulnerable would have required me to tell the truth and take down the facade. People would see the real me. And I believed 'me' wasn't good enough, smart enough, successful enough, rich enough, thin enough, perfect enough.
I hid my messy hair, tear-stained cheeks, and small paychecks. I hid my shame, fear, lack of self-worth, and intense hurt that went beyond my understanding.
I struggled for years. Like so many other women, I had been led to believe I wasn't good enough from a young age, and thought friendships were built on lies, and freedom was found in success and money. Lies.
Even as my relationship with God bloomed in the year before the race, I still struggled with not feeling good enough. It wasn't until I was on the race that the truth came out. Little by little, my facade began to tear, and my teammates began to see through.
I was forced to get real, and I hated it. I didn't know how to trust people, and I fought it, trying to maintain the belief that I was just fine. But I wasn't fine, and it didn't take long before I came to a point of acceptance and began to get real.
And the crazy thing is, my teammates didn't run away. They didn't leave when they saw my mess. They didn't stop trusting me when I admitted my lies. I was good enough. They stuck around, and taught me how to trust. And with trust came intense vulnerability.
It's not always easy, and sometimes it's still a struggle. It's scary, and makes my heart beat a little faster every time I share, but the freedom and depth in relationships it brings are worth any risk. Trust and vulnerability have become pillars in my relationships, and my ability to be real has opened doors for others to step into the same freedom.
I hate that vulnerability and trust is something so many women (and men) struggle with. It's hard to believe we are good enough as is, but it's true. We are also worthy to be known, not as a fake perfected version of ourselves, but as our real raw messy selves. And that person is worthy of a love beyond understanding.
This blog (and my post-race blog… to be revealed in April) is meant to be a place of vulnerability. A place I write my revelations, struggles, and pain. A place I share my heart, loves, and the beauty God shows me every day. I often share stories and lessons once they are learned, not in the midst of the heartache. I don't always share the whole story, just the pretty parts. But my best blogs are the raw ones. So I'm accepting a personal challenge, to write only with my heart, whether messy or beautiful, painful or delightful.
I'm welcoming people into my life to see me as I am. Messy hair, tear-stained cheeks, no paycheck. Broken, learning, growing, writing.
