Being Open Isn’t Easy

Recently a friend who is also an amazing coach asked me to be more porous - more open to outside influences, more receptive to connection, more willing to let others and their support flow through the boundaries I've built. I'm a deep feeler but realizing I'm not always a deep receiver.

I've spent years sharing my journey - the grief, the joy, the in-between places where most of life happens. I'm able to share in a way that is deeper than some I know. But there are even deeper parts I keep hidden. Locked away. An old survival trick for me that doesn't serve me so much. It lets me be just enough vulnerable. But not so much I risk anything.

I've risked so much already I tell myself just having someone close. Shouldn't that be enough? No? It's not at this point in my life. And yet it feels like so much.

Suz use to tease me about being independent. Then not so much a tease as a noticing how quickly I could withdraw. This does not say anything about others but more about my lack of trust at times of the world. My experiences. Trauma. What shaped me.

My dearest friends see it. When I really really need them I have to coach myself through to reach out. To be honest. To let someone else carry part of what feels too heavy.

So while I am a big believer in vulnerability it's still something I am trying on. Something I'm building a muscle for. Something that doesn't always come naturally even when I'm sharing parts of my story with thousands of you.

The hard truth? Vulnerability is terrifying. The beautiful truth? It's how we find our way back to each other.

I recognize this dance in others sometimes - the careful balance of revealing and concealing. If you're nodding along as you read this, know that I see you in this journey too. It's not easy figuring out how much is too much or not enough. Where the line between protection and connection lies.

So what does more porous mean for me? Sitting with my feelings? Yes. But sitting with another in my feelings? Porous. Accepting help? Porous. Feedback when warranted? Porous. Leaning in when everything in me wants to pull away? Porous.

Home isn't just a place - it's the feeling of being truly seen, messy parts and all. And maybe that's the whole point of this community we're building together - not perfection, but presence. Not having it all figured out, but showing up anyway.

While vulnerability does not feel like the softest place to land, it gets us closer. Closer to each other. Closer to ourselves. Closer to the kind of peace that comes from knowing we don't have to carry it all alone.

Your story matters too - I'm just here holding space for all of us still figuring it out together.