The price of vulnerability

At times, when I think about all the life experiences I have publicly shared – deeply personal stories of hardship and triumphs throughout my lifetime as a disabled person – it takes my breath away. Occasionally, I go into panic mode, questioning my decision to share so much. After all, once it is out there, it is there to stay.

I was on the phone with my college-aged son a couple of days ago. I have discovered that part of the beauty of having grown children is that the relationship broadens and some mature life conversations start to take place. We were discussing some positive feedback I received recently about my writing. It was timely feedback, as I was questioning my choice to be so vulnerable as the feedback came in. Should I be doing this? Does it even matter with so much else going on in the world? Sharing my little old life?

What my son said to me made me think. He said, “the reward is far greater than the cost if you take advantage of it.”

I agreed.

The reward of helping a fellow human being is one of the best rewards there is. Obviously, there came a time when I decided I wanted to take the risk of being vulnerable. Sharing from the heart, authentically, will always reach someone. We discussed that all humans have a story and a choice to be vulnerable. Sometimes, those impactful vulnerabilities that are ours to share or not to share come at an extremely high price. For me, that price has been living my 50 years disabled.

Vulnerably telling my story has taught me that while living disabled causes many hardships, it has allowed me to share very impactful stories that have the potential to reach both disabled and non-disabled people. It has surprised me that it has affected people who are not disabled because when I set out on my “new mission” of sharing my story, I had only imagined it helping those who are more “like me.” Sometimes, our minds tend to think on such a small scale. That has been the case, too, but the things that those who don’t live disabled have told me they have learned from me has been so enlightening to me.

To be vulnerable you don’t have to write about it and share with the public. You can be vulnerable in a one-on-one conversation and have meaningful impact, too. I have had many conversations with others who have been vulnerable with me, and it motivated me to make changes in my own life. Vulnerability is powerful when used with good intentions.

In my experience as a disabled person, I have also noticed that many feel comfortable being vulnerable with me. They share deeply person things with me and tell me they have never shared those things with many – or anyone. I have even had strangers come up to me and share very intimate details of their lives because they thought it may help me in some way. Sometimes that is an amazing thing, and sometimes it is very awkward for me.

The scariest part about being publicly vulnerable is, of course, the risk of criticism or harmful comments. On the flip side of that, taking in all the good that can come from it is where the risk becomes worth it. Being vulnerable comes with the automatic responsibility of managing emotions in a healthy way. Understanding that not everyone is going to like, get, or agree with what you are saying. Weighing the outcomes before making that decision. Finding the balance between oversharing and not sharing enough to make the difference you could make.

Ultimately, what it came down to for me was that in order for me to be authentic – for people to truly know and understand me as a person hoping to do a small part to educate others on life with a disability – I had to be comfortable with vulnerability and view it through a positive lens. For a long time, I viewed vulnerability as a negative thing. Once I changed my perspective, it allowed me to be more aligned with my path in life.

The ripple effect from choosing to share our vulnerabilities could spread farther than we could ever imagine. At the end of our conversation, my son said to me, “Your shift from being less vulnerable and open about your disease pre-diagnosis to where you’re at now has been something I’ve really modeled my own life after.”

Think of the ripple effect just he could have. The possibilities are endless.

Until next time …

Amy Shinneman is a former National Ambassador for the Muscular Dystrophy Association, disability blogger, wife, and mom of two boys. You can find her blog at humblycourageous.com and reach her on Instagram @ashinneman.