Vulnerability
The power in vulnerability
I have never been someone to shy away from action. I have an idea + I steam forwards to make it happen. I can’t do things any other way. If it feels right, I throw myself into it. People can sometimes assume that because of this I am never scared or worried. People see me + assume so much. I do believe that my personality + my life experiences have lent themselves to me having a greater confidence in myself than many other women have (something I seek to be part of remedying!), however, I can fall victim to feeling ‘not enough’ as much as any woman. The difference perhaps is that I put my head down + do it anyway.
This last couple of weeks has really tested me in this arena. I released The Mothership out into the world. I am sure most reading this at the time of writing will know who ‘she’ is because I have been sharing so much about ‘her’. I cannot tell you the emotional ride I have been on since announcing ‘her’. Literal tears. I couldn't explain it. But then it occurred to me: ‘she’ is part of me, and as I put her out there, I am placing myself out there too like never before. The Mothership is a culmination of 40 years of my life (I turn 40 in 12 days). She is literally my life's work. All the times I have felt different, stood out from the crowd, gone against the status quo, stood up for what I believed, been seen as ‘the weird one’, have led to this moment.
This last 18+ months has highlighted to me that I am strong. I am resilient. I will + can adapt to mounting pressures around me, in order to keep fighting for, and living, the life that I know I am here to live, and that I deserve. Unlike many I have felt capable of speaking out against the madness. I have not felt anxious to speak my (the) truth. I believe that the foundations of that have been all the moments I have taken steps in my life to stand for what I believe in, in the smaller moments: what I choose to eat, how I choose to dress, not drinking alcohol on a night out, just because everyone else does: I have put in the practise when it comes to ‘not going along with the crowd’.
However all of that has felt easy to me in many respects, because it hasn’t mattered if anyone goes along with it. If people have felt intrigued by my choices + wanted to learn more, or have felt inspired by me + felt braver in making decisions that feel right for them, then great, but either way I carried on. This last two weeks I have done something different though: I have put myself out there + asked people to join me in this weird + wonderful way of living. I have essentially asked them if they believe in me enough to hold hands with me + take the step into collectively breaking free from the status quo. With that comes huge fears of rejection, and that potential rejection has a truly personal connection. It has left me feeling so vulnerable, but I cannot do anything but keep going. I have been called to do this work. I know how fundamentally important it is, and I have no other choice than to put myself out on the line, to be fully seen, because the alternative is ‘they’ get closer to winning.
Because that is the other area that has caused me so much heightened emotion: the knowledge that there is little time to waste. There is an urgency for us to return back to ourselves. There is an urgency for us to remember the wisdom of those who passed before us. There is an urgency to reconnect to the earth. The urgency doesn’t, and shouldn’t, elicit fear, if anything it is incredibly exciting to be part of this huge shift, but it should be taken seriously. And there is a huge overspill of emotion in me that I may not do a ‘good enough’ job in inspiring others to know they can be part of this change. I feel the urgency. I feel the call to be a guide. But can I create the movement that is being asked of me? And can I do it soon enough?
I have had these moments before. These moments of transition. Each time they last for a few weeks. They come when I am being nudged (guided) into something new. Every time I cry for days + days. I am on the edge of emotion all the time. Highs and lows. I leave long + garbled voice messages to my closest friends. They listen. They hear me. They reflect back. They see me. They hold me energetically in those moments. I have to spend huge amounts of time alone. I lack patience for anything other than time to ponder + feel into everything that is emerging in me. I feel tender. I feel exposed. I wonder if I am capable of what is being asked of me. I see clearly where I am meant to go, and I know I will go there, but I am nervous as I take the steps.
But I do it anyway. I have to. It is who I am. And I always come out the other side of the vulnerability, having learnt the greatest lesson of all, again: I am capable. I am worthy. I was born for these times. Everything is always working out beautifully for me, when I follow my heart. The vulnerability is a space for expansion, and I will ALWAYS be grateful for it.
I go deeper on some of my feelings in my podcast episode from this week, which you can listen to here.
If you want to learn more about The Mothership, you can do so here.