Vulnerability is a Muscle
What if vulnerability is an antidote to impostor syndrome and anxiety? I share my struggle with vulnerability and some tips I'm trying to strengthen the muscle of being more open.
I’m really struggling with vulnerability right now in every single aspect of my life.
I’m craving closeness with people in my community, my family, my friends—but I’m not sure how to ask for it.
I want to share more on social media, but I’m scared of how I will be perceived.
Even writing this post is scary as hell (look at me practicing vulnerability!).
If vulnerability is so powerful (as Brene Brown keeps telling us it is), why are we so resistant to it?
Looking up the definition of vulnerability may explain why: “Vulnerability is the quality of being easily hurt or attacked.” No wonder so many of us want to avoid it like the plague.
I know I’m not alone in this. Even my 6.5-year-old is resistant to it. When I asked her to share her feelings about anxiety with classmates she said, “No, they’ll judge me!”.
Someone in Collective this week talked about how “Showing up for myself is causing me to have a lot of anxiety”—what is it about caring for ourselves that causes us to resist, constrict, and shut down?
Read on to learn how we can make vulnerability more tangible so we can all dip our toes in, take one tiny step closer to being more vulnerable, without feeling like we’re jumping off a cliff.
Vulnerability as Joy
A few months ago, my dear friend photographer Sai Mokhtari, called me to talk about anxiety. She hadn’t experienced it much and was curious to know what it felt like.
She was confused—she had grown up in a war zone with very little resources to go around. I had grown up working class in the suburbs of New York City with (relatively) more security and support. Why did I have constant anxiety while she barely experienced it?
She asked me a question that I can’t stop thinking about: “Does anxiety get in the way of you feeling joy?”
It occurred to me that I never let myself be joyful. It’s not an emotion I let myself feel often.
I couldn’t stop thinking about this question when I took my kid to see Inside Out 2 (where characters have all of the emotions in their “head”-quarters). Did I even have access to joy?
I realized that I resist joy because it’s too vulnerable. Anxiety, anger, fear—these emotions are far more available (familiar? accessible? comfortable). But joy? It feels so exposed. When I feel joy, then I have something to lose.
So that has become my work for the week. With my own coach, I’ve been tracking my ANTs (Automatic Negative Thoughts according to Dr. Amen). This thought-work is showing me how strong my anxiety loop is—and I’m working hard this week to counterbalance that anxiety loop with an abundance loop.
The ANTs are reinforcing this cycle of anxiety (fear, scarcity, tension) but when I refocus on abundance (joy, curiosity, love), I feel myself open and shift. Tension releases and I unclench. I become more present.
Is this what joy feels like?
Vulnerability as an Antidote to Impostor Syndrome
It doesn’t surprise me that as I’m struggling with vulnerability, my impostor syndrome has gotten really loud.
I feel like I’m not communicating well with my family and other close relationships. And then I beat myself up (“I’m a communication coach, I should know how to communicate! Why aren’t I using all of my tools?”).
Impostor Syndrome is this nagging, repetitive feeling convincing you that you’re a fraud (“I shouldn’t be where I am and when everyone finds out that I’m faking it, it will all come crashing down”).
The problem is that Impostor Syndrome (and anxiety actually) are fed by secrecy, shame, and stigma. When we don’t talk about it, it convinces us that we’re alone in the feeling (and anxiety breeds in isolation). This explains why Impostor Syndrome gets worse with age and experience.
In their Harvard Business Review article, Stop Telling Women They Have Impostor Syndrome, Ruchika Tulshyan and Jodi-Ann Burey changed how I think about impostor syndrome. They share that most work environments don’t support or make space for underrepresented voices (particularly Black and brown women of color) to be their full selves. So impostor syndrome forces us to doubt ourselves and overwork (blame ourselves) instead of rightfully putting blame where it belongs (on workplaces lacking inclusion and psychological safety).
It is always the most privileged people I support who are the least likely to admit to feeling anxiety or impostor syndrome—they resist vulnerability—but when they share their feelings, they often deflate the intensity of the emotions. Note that my most privileged clients are not less likely to FEEL anxiety and impostor syndrome, but less likely to admit to it!
In fact, when senior leaders admit to feelings of anxiety and vulnerability, it often helps them project more authority and confidence.
So what if talking about these feelings is the antidote for anxiety and impostor syndrome? What if hiding it and having shame around it only makes it louder and more powerful?
How to Practice Vulnerability
So how do we strengthen this muscle of vulnerability when we’re so darn resistant to it? Here are a few things I’ve been trying:
Counterbalance to Warmth
Like most of us, I think I’m supposed to project strength (credibility, confidence, certainty) when what we’re really looking for in each other is warmth (connection, empathy, humanity).
As a non-binary person, I also avoid warmth because I don’t feel at home in the femininity often associated with it. So it becomes my “magnetic opposite” to focus on warmth—but it’s important that I access my own personal definition of warmth so I feel like myself.
That’s why I’m consciously accessing and practicing what I call Confident Warmth right now. It shows up as helping people feel heard and validated. When I get lost in negative thoughts, I’m visualizing a Care Bear Stare instead.
When I want to project “I’ve got this”, I’m trying to ask for help instead.
It’s a practice. It doesn’t come naturally or habitually. It’s manual and to be honest, right now I’m frustrated and feel like I’m failing. But I’m going to keep practicing and refocusing on warmth.
Because it feels like love. And we all need more of that right now.
Taking Up Space
When I realize I’m lost in the anxiety loop, I’m almost always holding my breath, leaning in, and constricting my body language.
I know I hold a lot of trauma in my body since my accident, becoming a parent, and dealing with daily gender dysphoria. And in reading A New Earth by Eckhart Tolle, I’m learning about the Pain-Body. We often escape the intensity of our thoughts or physical feelings to think about it, analyze it, and internalize it. It gets stuck in our body instead of moving through us.
So right now, when I feel myself constricting and going inward, I’m refocusing on taking up space. I lean back instead of leaning in. I raise my solar plexus just a little bit.
And when I do that, I literally create more space in my body—for breath, presence, and love—and this gets me out of my head. I’m able to think more with my gut-brain (instead of just my brain-brain) which allows for more embodied, intuitive thinking.
Leaning back and taking up space activates our vagus nerve and has been proven to improve hormonal confidence (increasing our access to dopamine, oxytocin, and even testosterone, hormones which help us feel more confident and connected). Our vagus nerve activates our parasympathetic nervous system (rest and digest)—when we’re in fight-or-flight (our sympathetic nervous system), our vagus nerve turns off.
It’s important to remember that fight-or-flight feeds feelings and thoughts of self-criticism while our vagus nerve feeds feelings and thoughts of self-compassion.
So if you find yourself leaning in or making yourself small, try leaning back and finding expansive body language. How does it change the nature of your thinking?
Passive Practice
I am a doer. I am much more comfortable getting things done and being “productive” than allowing, letting go, or following. It’s about control—I constantly default back to doing. This manifests in constant unconscious thinking about what I “should” be doing. The pressure is sometimes debilitating and often distracting.
Unconscious thinking feels like doing. It’s effortful. It takes all of my attention. So I’ve developed what I call Passive Practice, as a way to practice being, not doing.
A few times a day, I have moments of Passive Practice, where I release all effort and allow myself to just BE. This may look like:
Brushing my teeth and focusing on the sensation of the bristles on my teeth (and then refocusing on that sensation each time I go back to thinking)
Standing still with my hands on my heart and trusting my body to hold me up while reliquishing as much effort as possible (I practice this for a few moments, swaying a bit, as I trust my body to hold me up)
In Shavasana in yoga, I fully release into the floor, let go of conscious breath and follow the breath instead
When I’m lost in thought in conversation, I’ll anchor to the sounds around me (especially my breath or other people’s voices)
What helps you practice vulnerability and do you resist it as much as I do? Let me know in the comments!
Here’s some resources to help you practice vulnerability:
Cultivating Authentic Relationships through Vulnerability: Cracking the Connection Code by Babu George PhD
Stop Telling Women They Have Impostor Syndrome - this article by Ruchika Tulshyan and Jodi-Ann Burey changed how I think about impostor syndrome
How Can You Overcome Impostor Syndrome? You Don’t - by Reshma Saujani gives tangible ways to stop pathologizing impostor syndrome
How to Free Yourself From Lies that Keep You small - podcast by Naomi Powell with Tanya Geiser