Being Vulnerable is Hard

It’s a fact of life that you can’t truly form a relationship with at least some degree of vulnerability. You have to open up at some point or another. This has been one of those particular problems for me and as I get older I’m slowly learning how to let people in.

The truth of it is that I tend to keep people at arms length. I tend to maintain a distance even between my closest friends and that may be to my detriment. Jumping in wholly and completely just isn’t something that’s easy for me to do. Whether it’s a result of being hurt in the past or a result of the paranoia I feel everyday as someone living with schizophrenia I’m not sure.

The point is though that I rarely allow myself to be vulnerable with other people.

Trust is a big word. There’s so much meaning behind it and it’s something I struggle with innately. My mind will always be whispering things to me that make it extremely difficult to trust people but there are a few (I can count them on one hand) that I trust. These people are my mom, my dad, my brothers and one friend. I can tell them anything and they’ll be behind me no matter what. I have nothing to hide from them. They’ve seen me at my absolute worst.

The thing that’s different about these relationships are that, in all the time we’ve had together, they’ve seen every facet that’s been manifested from my illness and they’ve never left. So few people see me when I’m struggling simply for the same fact that I don’t trust them.

I think what it takes to be truly vulnerable with someone comes down to two things, shared struggle and continuous exposure.

That is, continuous exposure in that you seem them regularly, if not everyday then at least once a week, in essence the conversation builds over time until you find yourself discussing intensely personal things, things you’d normally never tell another soul. This is warts and all, every tiny insecurity is eventually on the table and the test is whether or not they leave when it gets intense. If they don’t, well there’s a friend for life.

In that same vein is shared struggle. Essentially whatever happens, even the horrible, really bad stuff, you two are there for each other. It’s no surprise that my family falls in this camp. They stuck by me when I left, with no warning, to go to the U.N. thinking I was a prophet and they visited me everyday in the mental hospital upon my return. They put up with my crazy notions that I had to escape and that every tiny thing had some huge connotation and connection to me. Simply knowing that I’ve been my craziest around them and they stuck by me created a foundation for an intense, innate trust that many families probably struggle with. They’ve always been there for me, even at my worst. It’s as simple as that.

Being vulnerable though, and taking those steps to trust someone is something that comes with time. It’s like a wall that builds slowly, one brick, one secret at a time until it’s thirty stories tall. I’ve made the mistake before of being too trusting and it’s cost me but it’s also given some perspective and some good stories.

Essentially what it all comes down to is whether they stick around when they see the worst of you. If they’re still there, you know you’re good.

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  1. Thank you for sharing your feelings on this topic. Vulnerability is a difficult concept for many people regardless of their mental status. However as Dr. Brene Brown put it vulnerability is the birth place of Joy, belonging, love, trust, and creativity.

  2. Your blogs give me hope. Thank you for your strength. My son was recently diagnosed with schizophrenia. He wont take meds, refuses Drs. and is in denial. My question for you is..when you were off meds..did you still actually know you had this disease?

  3. I have no friends and no family. They ALL left when I was hospitalized. They didn’t even come see me in the hospital, with the exception of two friends who came to tell me they were dumping me. All I had were my dogs. Then the neighbors had my dogs taken away from me while I was in teh hospital. They were supposed to be taken care of by the neighbors, but instead, they called the city and had them taken away and put up for adoption. Therefore I now have no one. Absolutely no one. Every single person I’ve told about my illness has disappeared, period. Even my parents feared me after my first hospitalization. Then they died 36 yrs ago, leaving me with no one. I am not sure why I am still alive. I don’t want to be.

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