To be vulnerable is to express in this moment the exact state of our interior world so that another can sense precisely where we are at and tap into that spot. Vulnerability expressed well carries with it a power to move others, to move their emotions, to move them into action, and to move them into deeper connection. True vulnerability cannot be expressed with control. Control has us considering the result of our words, their effect, and their impact in such a way we cannot hold the full amount of attention necessary to describe our internal state in this moment. The "nowness" of vulnerability is what makes it alive and makes it move.
Confession can masquerade as vulnerability. The assumption is that vulnerability is akin to saying what we did wrong, and we feel compelled to rush through that admission. The truth is that the most vulnerable thing we can say is the first-generation expression of the impact another human being is having on us, without laying a "powerless trip" on them.
Saying, "I was hurt," is a powerless or passive form of expressing our experience that denies our personal volition. "I am a bad person" is just the confession format. Neither speak to the raw, vulnerable nature of being felt by and feeling another person, of the shakiness, of the nervousness that we will be hurt, of feeling overwhelmed with desire to give them everything, of the fear that we will break our own rules, of the hope that we can open enough to give them everything.
Without power, we tip from one side to the other–confession or victim. "Broken" is the most challenging of the lack of power identities because it presents itself as without volition or control in any given situation. At its foundation, the identity of broken is rooted in "this happened to me." It draws in pity, chivalry, rescuing, and commiseration.
It can be compelling for a woman to be held and protected by a man or to have another woman stand for her. But it would be wise for her to look at the price tag of these. The cost is the concretization of a powerless identity and distancing herself from others because she has communicated she is incapable of the power required to be genuinely vulnerable. Vulnerability would require her to agree to go anywhere.
Regardless of her circumstances, every woman has the potential for power. More often than not, she has created the very things she thinks hold her back. It is easier in the short run to say, "this happened," rather than, "I did these things to create this situation."
Most women do not understand that the way to power is to com- municate vulnerably how she created the circumstances she is in. As tempting as it is to go passive and act as if it happened to her, the cost is incredibly high. The people around her end up with an overinflated sense of their power or they altogether lose interest. But more importantly—for the short-term gain of attention—she loses her power and gets locked in a vicious cycle that is in constant need of refueling.
Vulnerability is power because it can dissolve any barrier. A woman who lives in her vulnerability—rather than her submission or her brokenness—inspires others to open and tend to her with the greatest care. She may of course be hurt in the process, but she can also be hurt while she wears the mask she tries to hide her vulnerability behind.
Becoming truly vulnerable empties her as she holds nothing back. She may not always get the result she wants, but she is in a state of openness from having said everything that was there to be said. Any place where she remains in bondage with another human being in her mind is a place where she withheld vulnerability. It matters not whether they are in connection with her.
What matters is if she emptied the spot of vulnerability of all of its contents and was honest with herself. A woman on the path of her power is not stopped by pride. The feelings of power and vulnerability are too good to be held back by how she might "look" or be perceived by others.
