About that Vulnerability Hangover

Anyone who knows me knows that I’m a big fan of Brené Brown and her work on vulnerability, connection, courage, and shame. I use her work often in my day job to talk about the importance of vulnerability as an essential component of authentic relationships and effective leadership. If you’ve followed Brené for a while, then you’ve likely seen her viral Ted Talks which launched her into the stratosphere. At the beginning of the second one she describes the immense vulnerability hangover she had following the first talk, wishing she could break into the offices and steal the video before it got posted online. She was worried about what would happen to her life if six or seven hundred people ended up seeing it. To date, it’s had more than 61 million views.

I am, certainly, no Brené Brown. But the feeling after launching this website and blog was a definite vulnerability hangover. As I told my writing group, I was “putting the cart WAY before the horse,” and I had many thoughts about how ridiculous I was going to look when this writing project goes nowhere. “Weren’t you trying to get published?” I imagine people saying, forcing me to admit that yes, I was trying, and I absolutely failed. I remember the too-many-to-count moments when someone has discovered I write, asking, “Have you ever tried to get it published?” Which then requires me to respond in some joking, self-deprecating way about the challenges of the publishing industry, and how the goal has always been just to write, and how I “haven’t been so lucky so far,” and so on. Making myself smaller each time.

But the thing is, the goal has always been just to write, because the publishing industry is challenging. I’ve always been clear-eyed about that. And while, yes, it felt scary and vulnerable to launch this thing, to actually commit to doing it, no matter where it went, the response, not surprisingly, has been nothing but supportive and kind. I even had a dear friend (and one of my beta readers) ask me to talk to her book group this summer about the book I've written. “You already have a fan club,” she texted me, which is more than I could ever hope for, frankly.

This has felt vulnerable. It also has felt selfish, in the best way, and true. It’s honoring a part of me that I am intentionally committing to, which should be the most important thing that I do. As I said to my writing group, this might be “putting the cart WAY before the horse, but I hope it’s motivating (to myself and others).” One of the things Brené talks about in that Ted Talk is how it changed her life. It forced her to face the fact that there was part of her that was “working really hard to engineer staying small. Staying right under the radar.” There is no connection, no courage, without vulnerability. You have to be willing to have your butt kicked a bit. To try something that just might fail. No staying small.

This week, my attempt at vulnerability is to submit some words for feedback in a webinar I’m attending next week. It’s just a sentence, and it may or may not get selected. If it does get selected, it will be out there, for everyone, including the webinar facilitator, to pick apart. It feels big. It feels vulnerable. It feels like the exact right thing to do.

So, if this serves as a bit of motivation for you, do that thing you’ve been a little nervous or shy about. Put yourself out there and try something. Share your gifts and talents with the world. Show up in spaces where you choose to belong. Make a commitment to yourself. Even if no one else tells you, hear this, from me: You already have a fan club. I’m rooting for you, unequivocally.