Awakening My Creativity Bit by Painful Bit
While watching Brene Brown’s Netflix special, The Call to Courage, I was taken back to the years when my creativity lay dormant. A huge, flashing neon sign rose in my mind when she talked about telling a corporate executive:
No vulnerability, no creativity. No tolerance for failure, no innovation.
I’ve spoken a number of times about how I went for years not writing. I also took a few years away from dancing while devoting my time and effort only to work and my daughters’ extracurricular activities. At the same time, I withheld even the slightest smidgen of myself which connected to what I saw as my softer, more vulnerable side.
The cost was higher than I ever imagined. During those years when I tried to appear strong and invulnerable, I lost my creativity, and worse, my humanity. Had I even tried to write during that time, it would either have come out stilted and stiff, or I’d have shoved what I wrote into a drawer, never allowing it to see the light of day, much less allowing others to see how scared and vulnerable I really was. Yet, the truth is, as long as I kept it all inside, I was NOT being vulnerable, nor was I being courageous. I was just afraid and alone.
The minute you become comfortable, it’s no longer vulnerable. — Brene Brown
Struggling Still With Worthiness
These days, when someone tells me they love what I wrote, there’s still a part of me inside 
which has trouble believing the words or the praise. I honestly don’t see myself as “insightful”, or “profound”, or any of the other incredibly uplifting words friends and acquaintances have used.
What I see instead is I simply reached the point where I was tired of living inside a bubble of my own making; afraid to reach out, scared to be my true self. I wanted, no needed connections, and had literally stumbled upon the answer when I opened up about my parents’ suicides on my blog, website, and Facebook.
Here is where I disagree with Ms. Brown. She believes you can’t have vulnerability without boundaries. By that, she means, you have to choose who you open up to. In that, by her definition, I’ve failed. Yet for me, it was the first step, and a step I took for a reason.
Living My Own Experiences
Suicide and mental health are two of the most stigmatized topics around (though before you start bashing me for minimizing the other equally valid and stigmatized topics, I’m not saying they’re the only ones, nor necessarily at the top of the list. But they’re the ones I have enough personal experience to talk about intelligently). Having lived with or through both, I believe I’m qualified to discuss them openly, if at times, a bit clumsily.
I learned from my own experience that people who have dealt with either or both tend to hold things in for many reasons. At the top of the list is judgement. They don’t want to be seen as weak, or tainted. The truth is, we suicide survivors, or mental health strugglers, or children of someone with mental health issues need someone we can talk to or even just listen to so we know we’re not alone. We need a place where we can say things like “I suffer from depression”, or “I lost someone to suicide” knowing we’ll neither be judged nor sympathized with. A place where no one will think we need fixing, only understanding and empathy.
The Greatest Gifts are the Ones I’ve Received
The truth is, I’ve received much greater gifts than I’ve given by sharing my own experiences. Many people have reached out to tell me my writing helped them in some way. I’ve heard stories, not only of suicide loss, but of some of the most horrific cases of abuse imaginable. I feel incredibly blessed and grateful to have been entrusted with those stories.
But those stories are also of triumph and courage beyond anything I’ve ever experienced myself. These people often emerged stronger, if for awhile, less vulnerable to prove they could survive and thrive; not to themselves, but to the world, and perhaps to their abusers as well. They don’t look for praise or commendation. They don’t look for revenge or retribution. Their rewards are within themselves. Still, there is a part of them which needs to share their story.
These people do follow Ms. Brown’s admonition:
Vulnerability without boundaries isn’t vulnerability.
They share their story only with those they believe will listen and respect the burdens they carry and the ones they’ve dropped, the mountains they’ve scaled and the ones they’ve bypassed. They don’t need false sympathy or kudos for the distance they’ve come. Like me, they only need people who accept them as they are, regardless of their past, yet understanding of how strong they’ve had to be to overcome what to some would be insurmountable odds.
Sharing from the Safety of My Hermit Hole
Perhaps I share a bit more broadly, though to be honest, only through my writing. I don’t 
discuss my parents’ suicides with everyone I meet. There are some I’ll call or meet up with when I’m struggling or have encountered one of my triggers. Others will always see my positive side; the one which says: I’m fine with it. They made their choices and I know it wasn’t about me.
Those people neither want nor need to see me at those times when I’m once again struggling with my own occasional depression. They won’t hear from me when I’m in hermit mode, staying in the house with my cats for days on end. But they also won’t see me when my creativity is at it’s highest because I’m allowing the feelings to flow out through my fingers. They don’t understand that my creativity sat in that dark, deep hole where emotions, feelings and human-ness lay buried for decades.
Though I share so much of myself through my online presence, only those I trust ever get to talk about what I’ve written with me. Only those with whom I feel comfortable will share how my words made them feel, or how they’ve experienced something similar.
Only those I trust get to see and hear my whacky, stumbling, clumsiness as I try to express some of the more difficult emotions, or the things I’m still struggling to understand. As such, my boundary is the written, slightly detached place where I don’t have to see or hear the reactions of others to my words. So maybe I’m not as detached from Ms. Brown’s definition of vulnerability as I’d like to think. Maybe I’m less open and honest with the general population who truly sees an edited version of my open, honest, vulnerable self.
How Do You Embrace Your Vulnerability?
Have you learned to embrace your own vulnerability as your greatest strength rather than your biggest weakness? Have you learned to connect with others and build a community which has your back? My wish for you is that you don’t take 50 or so years like I did. Those years were far more lonely and painful than you’ll ever know unless, of course, you’ve been there too.
Are you struggling to express your vulnerable side? Would you like help letting your readers, 
clients, and prospects see you without the masks, but don’t have time to write from your heart? If this sounds familiar and you’re ready to attract the clients you’ll love working with, CONTACT ME and let’s talk!
About the Author
Sheri Conaway is a writer, blogger, ghostwriter, and advocate for cats. Sheri believes in the Laws of 
Attraction, but only if you are a participant rather than just an observer. Her mission is to Make Vulnerable Beautiful and help entrepreneurs touch the souls of their readers and clients so they can increase their impact and their income. If you’d like to have her write for you, please visit her Hire Me page for more information. You can also find her on Facebook Sheri Levenstein-Conaway Author. And check out her new group, Putting Your Whole Heart Forward.
Be sure to watch this space for news of the upcoming release of “Life Torn Asunder: Rebuilding After Suicide”.
