Unlocking the Power of Vulnerability in Recovery

“Only when we are brave enough to explore the darkness will we discover the infinite power of our light”
Brené Brown

Old Thinking

Years ago I could not imagine much worse than emotional exposure. I did whatever I could to hide my true emotions and self from the world. To me, vulnerability felt weak and unsafe. Learning to be vulnerable has been one of the most difficult and rewarding aspects of my recovery.

I used to fear vulnerability and was a master of disguise – hiding my emotions behind a facade of perfectionism and avoidance. Since I was a child, I have struggled with being my true self. I was eager to please and avoided conflict. I preferred to keep the peace and others happy, morphing into whatever I thought others wanted me to be. I had unconsciously learned that being small and agreeable allowed me to avoid uncomfortable situations and control the narrative of how people saw me.

As a result, I was disconnected from myself and others; using food to numb at an early age and turning to alcohol in my teenage years. Leaving home to attend university exacerbated my inner struggles. Perfectionism allowed me to project to others that I had it all together while secretly feeling insecure and inadequate.

While already a people-pleaser by nature, being sexually assaulted as a teenager left me in a state of emotional paralysis. My nervous system was overwhelmed and shut down. A response of trauma is fear of vulnerability and emotional avoidance. Denial is a defense mechanism that protects you from emotional pain. By not acknowledging my emotions or what had happened to me, I was blocking it out and keeping myself safe.

Consequently, I lacked deep connections with others because I was emotionally closed off. I had many people in my life but mostly at a superficial level as I kept them at a distance. I could not connect with others on an emotional level as I was numb on the inside. This was isolating and perpetually kept the cycle of depression and mental illness strong.

When I went to rehab the second time, the doctors doubted that I would be successful in the program due to my obvious avoidance of vulnerability and perfectionism. One doctor went so far as to ask why I bothered staying because I clearly was not ready to change. Masking my vulnerability was so natural to me that I did not even realize that I was doing it. I could lie to your face about how I was doing and not think twice.

One thing about rehab is that they love talking about emotions. You meet multiple times a day to check-in but do not dare say “I feel good” when asked how you are feeling. You will promptly be told that ‘good’ is not a feeling and referred to the massive feelings wheel to better pinpoint your specific emotion then try again.

Alright then I feel mad for all the stupid rules and expectations in rehab. Or I feel guilty for being here while my family is at home. Or how about that I feel perpetually sad? Any of those would work.

Instead I simply reply: “I am happy” hoping to avoid further scrutiny or discussion. While far from the truth, perfectionism was deeply ingrained in me and truthfully, I did not know how to break free from it. I simply did not have the emotional safety and ability to identify, experience, and process all that was being brought to the surface. Not surprisingly, even while in rehab, I resorted to old coping habits to deal with the discomfort I was feeling (i.e. relapsing with alcohol, and restricting food). I simply could not be vulnerable.

Learned in Recovery

Eventually, with the threat of being discharged, I was forced out of my comfort zone. Medical staff acknowledged that the process would be difficult for me but I had to at least put in some effort. I slowly began opening up and trying to identify and share how I was feeling with others. It was difficult as I felt exposed and unsafe. I did not want others to see the cracks in the image that I tried so hard to convey. What would people think of me? Would they see all my brokenness? Would they reject me?

Author Brené Brown speaks about vulnerability and has had a profound impact on my recovery. According to Brown, perfectionism (and lack of vulnerability) prevents one from having meaningful connections with others. She proceeds to say that “vulnerability is a catalyst to connection”.

I experienced this firsthand as I started being open during group therapy and something shifted internally. By trusting and letting people in, I was forming genuine connections to others on an emotional level. This was new to me and although it was uncomfortable, I felt less alone. I also became more self-aware and compassionate to myself and those around me.

I laughed immensely and experienced true joy at rehab. Not because it was a particularly enjoyable place to be but because I was learning to put down my facade in a safe environment with others with related issues. Many of us had been emotionally avoidant and were all learning to be vulnerable and forming connections with others for the first time since childhood. The term “recovery” means to “get back” and that is precisely what was happening. We were returning to a healthy state of mind before we got sidetracked by fear.

Learning to put my guard down and be real and honest was grudgingly painful. Sometimes I would catch myself falling back into perfectionism and dodging vulnerability, especially when things got emotionally difficult. As I pulled away and retreated back into myself, the loneliness resumed and I was reminded of my newfound need for connection – which came from a willingness to have an open heart and be vulnerable.

New Thinking

Recovery has taught me the beauty of vulnerability as a key part of mental wellness. I no longer fear vulnerability or see it as a weakness. “Vulnerability is not weakness; it’s our greatest measure of courage” asserts Brown. The benefits of being vulnerable are immeasurable and life-changing.

Brown also said that: “when we allow our most vulnerable selves to be known, we cultivate love.” My marriage and relationships have been radically enriched since I have learned to embrace vulnerability and truly be seen and known. I feel more loving towards life, myself and others. I now experience a deeper love for (and from) my daughters, husband, family, and friends. It is a new wonderful feeling and I truly bask in the comfort of loving and being loved without holding back.

Vulnerability has given me the capacity to have meaningful relationships and a sense of belonging. High quality connections with others is integral to well-being. An important aspect of strong relationships is trust which builds emotional bonds and comes from being vulnerable. That includes allowing others to see the real you: flaws and all. There is beauty in imperfection. (Plus it’s exhausting trying to pretend to be something that you are not!)

Perfectionism used to protect me by keeping people at a distance but is now counterproductive to healing. Overcoming perfectionism means the acceptance of discomfort and embracing life on life’s terms. Brown asserts that: “Vulnerability is having the courage to show up and be seen when we have no control over the outcome”. I no longer strive to convey myself as having it all together or hide my flaws from others. I worry less about what others think of me. This has been one of the most difficult yet liberating realizations. My happiness is no longer contingent on what others think of me, nor is it any of my business.

Feeling vulnerable has gradually become more natural. I finally feel emotionally safe to do so although admittedly it can be difficult at times. The difference is that I no longer use food or alcohol to numb or hide from my emotions. I now know that by avoiding my emotions, I was not just escaping the uncomfortable ones but also the pleasant ones. Ultimately, no emotion lasts forever; they come and go, rise and fall, like waves in the ocean. Fortunately, as I have learned to deal with my emotions and they have become more consistently stable, I do not experience such extreme highs and lows anymore. Which if we are talking waves is not good news for a surfer, but pretty ok for me.

I have learned that without processing your emotions, they do not go away. Instead they become amplified and leave a residual effect in your life of unresolved business (often a root cause of addiction or other mental health issues). Denial does not work because your body does not forget. By embracing emotions as they come, you are taking control before emotions take control of you.

Committing to vulnerability takes courage but is necessary to living an authentic life. The benefits of doing so are incredible. I continue to welcome vulnerability in my life and encourage others to do the same. By doing so, your relationships will be strengthened; your anxiety diminished; your self-awareness and self-compassion increased; and you will develop a greater appreciation of life.

If you are courageous enough to be vulnerable, then expect positive things to come your way: “Vulnerability is the core of shame and fear and our struggle for worthiness, but it appears that it’s also the birthplace of joy, of creativity, of belonging, of love” according to Brown.

As evident, I hold Brené Brown in high esteem as her book has drastically enhanced my life: “Daring Greatly: How The Courage To Be Vulnerable Transforms The Way We Live”. As Brown stresses, if you want to grow and live a meaningful life then you need to ‘lean into the discomfort’ and challenge old habits. This includes being vulnerable and learning to be authentically yourself. I highly recommend the book as my life has been transformed by breaking down my facade and allowing others to know me.

Step out of your shadow and let your light shine! There is only one you so embrace your authentic self and reap the rewards of being genuine.

From Suicide to Serenity: My Story of Hope

“When we deny our stories, they define us. When we own our stories, we get to write a brave new ending”
Brené Brown

Where I Was

Five years ago today, I woke up in the hospital after an intentional overdose. I was depressed and hopeless, not believing that I would overcome all my inner struggles. I strongly believed that my young daughters and family were better off without me.

That fateful day marked the beginning of a long, difficult road to get well. Today I barely recognize the broken girl that I used to be. My story has gone from one of sadness and desperation to one filled with love and hope. I have been completely transformed and feel like I have a new chance at life.

During my darkest time, I made a vow. I promised to share how to get well if I can figure it out. I would also tell others how to do it too. Having said that, welcome to the start of my blog and sharing of my recovery journey.

Let me go back to the beginning. I have long struggled with my mental health. I grew up in a loving family and while a happy child, I remember experiencing anxiety from a young age. Although at the time, I did not know what I was feeling and simply felt restless and uneasy.

As a young child, I was a people–pleaser. I used being a “good girl” to hide my uncomfortable emotions. An eating disorder was an early refuge from my inner nerves. In hindsight, I was a little girl. I was trying to find order in my world. This happened when things felt out of my control. By grade 4, I was showing signs of disordered eating. By age 12, I was in treatment for an eating disorder.

My life derailed at age 15, when I was sexually assaulted. It instantly left me feeling detached from myself and the world, as I struggled to at the same time comprehend and bury what had happened. I was left in a paralyzed state – overwhelmed, ashamed, and broken.

Despair took hold of me and shortly thereafter I attempted suicide. I survived and was hospitalized in an adolescent psych ward for nearly 2 weeks. Afterward, I returned to high school. I acted like everything was normal. I hid behind perfectionism, distractions, and a variety of vices (mainly disordered eating and alcohol). I simply shut down; incapable of dealing with my emotions. I was traumatized and the trajectory of my life completely altered.

I was traumatized and the trajectory of my life completely altered.

I struggled with my mental health throughout university. Eventually, I went to treatment for anorexia and bulimia in New York State after my third year. Counselors wanted me to discuss my past sexual trauma. I panicked. I dropped out of the treatment program early. As a result, my eating disorder persisted and my mental health remained poor.

For twenty years, my issues persisted but I always hoped that the next thing (e.g. new job, wedding, parenthood, buying a home, beauty secret etc.) would bring me happiness. Predictably, nothing filled the void and my emptiness continued. I felt a definite ‘hole in my soul.’ I tried to fill it in all the wrong places. This behavior perpetuated my mental illness.

I was like a pressure cooker with the pressure mounting. For more than two decades, I struggled with my mental health. I was in denial. I vehemently avoided my emotions and felt detached from life. Not surprisingly, this led to multiple stints in psych wards, rehab, and jail. Plus a whole lot of drama and worry. (I am incredibly thankful for my amazing husband, family, and friends that stood by and supported me).

Without release, a pressure cooker will eventually explode. That’s exactly what happened to me five years ago. I was depressed, hopeless, and overwhelmed with life – confident that I was a failure and would never get better. This false belief caused me to try suicide and landed me in hospital; thus beginning my long recovery journey.

A Seed of Hope

After having my stomach pumped, I laid awake for much of the night feeling ashamed and defeated. I was a mom to two beautiful young daughters. Now, Family and Children’s Services was assessing whether I was mentally fit to mother my own children.

The emergency psychiatrist evaluated me and reviewed my history. He suggested that I have post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) after sexual assault. He also mentioned that many of my issues be rectified if I mentally processed that event.

He proceeded to explain that traumatic experiences shape the brain and change neurobiology. Your experiences influence who you are. They also affect how you behave socially. Additionally, they impact you emotionally and physically.

This conversation gave me hope and was pivotal to understanding my own trauma. I was finally capable of seeing that I acted the way I did. It wasn’t because I was crazy. It was because I had experienced trauma and had not dealt with it.

I was finally capable of seeing that I acted the way I did. It wasn’t because I was crazy. It was because I had experienced trauma and had not dealt with it.

I felt hopeful that I could recover and that moment was the start of my recovery journey. I promptly took a leave from teaching to focus on getting well. The decision was quickly made. I would go to Homewood (rehab center) to intensively focus on my mental health struggles. This would take place during their eight-week in-patient program.

When I arrived at rehab, doctors openly doubted my future success in the program. My shield of perfectionism was obvious. My fear of vulnerability was not congruent with the group therapy model.

I certainly struggled to be open and vulnerable. My sense of loneliness gradually diminished as I connected and felt understood by others with related issues. I genuinely laughed and felt a little lighter for the first time in a long time. Yet, as at my earlier treatment facility, I left Homewood with unfinished business. I still would not discuss my trauma.

I learned many valuable skills while at rehab. I grew in many ways. Nonetheless, my poor coping strategies were most familiar and accessible. Practising daily recovery habits proved difficult at home with two young daughters. I relapsed and my life quickly began to spiral out of control again. I left Homewood in May 2019 and was back in November for another eight-week program.

I knew that things were not going to improve. I was not going to keep sobriety or mental wellness. This would persist until I faced and worked through what had happened to me, whether I wanted to or not. Denial of trauma is a defense mechanism that protects you from emotional pain. Except that was not working for me anymore. Now it was only causing me more pain and destruction. My recovery was my responsibility and I needed to own it.

I went back to rehab. I worked tremendously hard for a time. But as I had done before, I fled when things got too emotionally difficult. For the third consecutive time, I dropped out of rehab against medical advice in December 2019.

A lot happened in my life after this. I lost my driver’s license for leaving rehab against doctor’s orders. I continued outpatient day treatment. Then, I broke my ankle and required surgery, which rendered me unable to walk for 3 months. It eventually took a full year and another surgery as my ankle did not heal properly. Of course, Covid disrupted the world, affecting everyone. Needless to say, I continued my downward spiral (and was a magnet for chaos).

I had already gone to rehab twice in the previous year. I was still struggling with alcohol and food. I felt increasingly hopeless about ever recovering. I was not in a good place emotionally, spiritually or physically.

In July 2020, this reckless behavior came to a halt. I was pulled over and charged with impaired driving. I was placed in a jail cell. I sat hugging my legs against the cold concrete wall for hours. I was just going over things in my head.

I was immensely disappointed in myself. I knew that I only move ahead. I had to accept the ramifications of my actions. I recognized that this was my final rock bottom and the wake-up call that I desperately needed. I thanked God profusely for keeping myself and others safe while I was driving that day. Things could have easily ended in a tragically different way.

Miraculously, in the days after my arrest and time in jail, I felt an obvious shift within me. I had an epiphany. All the craziness in my life, pain, and struggle was making sense. I was finally capable of seeing it. I realized that everything in my life happened exactly as it did for a reason, including my trauma. Without these events, I would not have my two beautiful daughters. There was no point in continuing to run away from my past. This new acceptance brought tremendous peace as I was able to embrace my past as necessary to my current.

This change of heart put me in the right direction. I still had to face the consequences of my criminal charges. Additionally, I needed to put the necessary work into maintaining my recovery. The point is that I saw the work ahead of me. I no longer felt my usual avoidance or trepidation. Instead, I had a newfound faith and stillness in my heart.

I stopped drinking and committed to getting and staying sober. I still struggled with disordered eating but giving up alcohol was a necessary starting point. The longer I gave up alcohol, the clearer my thoughts became, and I started noticing big shifts in my thinking. The absence of alcohol brought about significant changes. My willingness to be honest and open with myself also contributed to these changes.

I stayed off work for another year as I continued to solidify my recovery. I was 14 months alcohol-free when I gradually returned to work in fall 2021. Unfortunately, shortly after returning to work full-time, I started experiencing signs of diminished mental health. By January 2022, I continued a downturn. I turned again to dysfunctional coping strategies to manage. These included eating disorder behaviours and using marijuana. This affected my ability to be an effective teacher.

I had made good progress during my earlier few years. Yet, it was clear that I still had some issues to work through. These issues were keeping me in a state of mental sickness. My doctor agreed and I reluctantly took yet another leave of absence from work during the 2022/2023 school year. This decision was especially difficult. I had to admit that I returned to work and failed. So, I had to take another leave.

I decided against inpatient treatment. I was motivated to recover and felt like being at home was best for my family. I worked with a dietitian three times weekly to gain weight. I also focused on developing consistent eating habits and improving my relationship with food. Additionally, I had sessions twice weekly with a counselor where we focused on trauma recovery. It was a productive and healing year – the necessary final leg of my long wellness journey.

In September 2023, I returned to teaching Kindergarten full-time. That was the first time in my career that I felt calm and content with both life and work. I enjoy my job and it feels rewarding to be back in the classroom and school community. That being said, I am still learning to trust calm and stillness, as chaos was before most familiar and comfortable.

Where I Am Now

Today I feel completely transformed as I have a peace within that I never thought possible. I now have healthy coping strategies and am 3.5 years alcohol-free; sober, and without disordered eating habits. I am no longer stuck in inner chaos. I have learned how to calm my emotional storms and take control of my well-being.

Today I feel completely transformed as I possess a peace within that I never thought possible.

I feel blessed to have a second chance at life. I have since learned that alcohol, eating disorder and perfectionism were not my problem – they were my solution. Fear was my problem. I was afraid of facing my emotions; fearful of vulnerability; fearful of not measuring up; fearful of failure and more. Instead of facing my fears, I found ways to avoid and hide behind them. I have since learned that fear is a liar. I cannot always believe the fear that creeps inside my head.

Author Brené Brown’s words deeply resonated with me. They gave me strength and courage to write my own ending to a story I once thought hopeless. “When we deny the story, it defines us. When we own the story, we can write a brave new ending.” After two decades, my sexual assault no longer defines or controls me. That is life-changing and empowering to me – I am grateful to have (finally) changed the end of my story.

I am proof that healing is possible and with that comes post-traumatic wisdom and growth. I have learned that sharing one’s story is powerful. Take what has happened to you. Turn it into power. I used to think of my vulnerabilities as weaknesses so I hid my true self from the world. I now embrace vulnerability. I feel compelled to share what I have gained along my journey to mental wellness. I want to help others that are struggling.

Recovery is not easy but it is well worth it. Recovery is a choice and you have to want to get better, despite all the obstacles that lay ahead. And when you have hope, you will never be alone. Sometimes the smallest step in the right direction ends up being the biggest step of your life. Tip toe if you must, but take the step.

Throughout my recovery, writing has become a therapeutic outlet. I have discovered that I am louder on the inside than I have ever known. My story’s ending is continually evolving. I step out of my darkness and continue my pursuit of becoming authentically me. I am no longer ashamed of my past and now see the strength and courage in my recovery. My future feels bright and hopeful. I am excited to see where my recovery journey will continue to take me. I look ahead to sharing all that I have learned along the way – hope, healing, and owning your story.

If you made it this far, thank you for reading my story. :-)

If you are struggling with your mental health, please reach out for help. You are not alone. Reach out and connect with someone. 

If you or someone you know is thinking about suicide, call or text 9-8-8, 24 hours a day, 7 days a week.

If you are not in crisis but looking for additional mental health support, there are numerous free apps or online resources for dealing with stress, anxiety, depression, addiction, PTSD etc. 

Recovery is possible and you are worth it!!