Vulnerable: What’s in a Word?

“I came to explore the wreck.
The words are purposes.
The words are maps.
I came to see the damage that was done
and the treasures that prevail.”

–Adrianne Rich

Vulnerable: Susceptible to physical harm or damage, susceptible to emotional injury, or susceptible to attack.  “Vulnerable populations” are unable to care for themselves; elderly people are “frail and vulnerable”.

Most of us spend our life avoiding vulnerability. We exercise endlessly to stave off weakness; we guard what we say in meetings to avoid attacks and disagreements that could weaken our influence; when things get tough, we decide to leave our lovers before they can leave us.  We do what we can to protect ourselves – physically and emotionally. 

Of course we can’t be invulnerable in every context – we share things with our best friends or partners that we wouldn’t want to shout out to the world.  In early life we learn to admit when we are wrong, even if we do so sparingly.  We go camping, hiking or skiing without deep concerns about being attacked by a bear or breaking our leg, even when those are possibilities.  We are willing to be vulnerable because the rewards can be great – it is worth it to be connected, to be trustworthy, and to have fun.

 I suspect that each of us hones a personal, intuitive calculus that allows us to make quick decisions about when to leave our safe, self-protected space to realize something more important.  But then fear of failure and loss pushes back, demanding to reduce vulnerability to as small a part of life as possible. 

In my 30s, I believed that I needed a continuous career because I ached at other women’s vulnerability when spouses left and they couldn’t support themselves.  I wanted to stay home with my babies, but didn’t dare and chose safety over the complex pleasures and challenges of full-time mothering.  The pattern of looking for every chance to reduce vulnerability was well ensconced, although most of my choices were right for me at the time.

But then, more secure in my career (and becoming older, possibly wiser) I became more tuned in to the antonyms of vulnerability – what happens when reducing vulnerability becomes a practice and a priority.  Some are worth pondering:

Guarded: cautious, circumspect, reticent, non-committal

Protected: insulated, sheltered, screened off

Resistant: averse to, immune, unaffected by

Insensitive: inconsiderate, thoughtless, hard-hearted, callous

Indomitable: unassailable, unshakeable, intransigent

Thick-skinned: unfeeling, insensitive, hardened

I admit that I have often wanted to be all of these (well, not thick-skinned).  I hoped to control how other people would see me and how situations would affect me, and to find a relatively unshakeable balance, equanimity.  When challenged, and on those many days when I lacked self-confidence, trying to be non-committal and immune seemed pretty good.  When I was overwhelmed because I said yes to more requests than I could easily manage, being a bit more insensitive to other people’s needs felt like the wisest path.  As a young woman in a predominantly male world, being regarded as indomitable was a strategy to reduce uncertainty at work — and seemed to engender respect (acting more like a man?). 

Yet, as I look at the antonyms, I see that self-protection was cumulative.  I adopted predictable behaviors in meetings, and even with close colleagues, which shielded me – but did I gain respect at the expense of trust? I was intransigent in arguing for policies that served my students well – but did that get in the way of developing relationships that might have supported both me and my students?  Could I have accomplished the same goals with more vulnerability and less protection?

Then, sometime in my early 50’s, I found myself in a group where members developed a deep trust and shared painful details of their past and current lives.  There were two rules: you could not interrupt, and you could not offer advice.  I had to learn to listen rather than react. I read Thich Nhat Han, and absorbed the lesson that “the most precious gift we can give others is our presence.”  I had to acknowledge that I didn’t always know the solution to someone’s question or problem, but I could, if invited, join in a search.  I took in other mantras, accepting the inevitability of “failure” because I could not eliminate uncertainty.  I read Sun Tzu’s  Art of War, and took to heart “To know your Enemy, you must become your Enemy.”   I realized that to be an effective warrior for my students I needed to see the nuances of other people’s thoughts and allow them an honorable way of leaving or amending a conversation. 

I deliberately took baby steps to became more vulnerable.

At work, people noticed.  In my marriage it was too late, but when I remarried, I saw that prioritizing intimacy and understanding was as important as love – and much more important than being right.

Being vulnerable doesn’t mean being a pushover.  It doesn’t mean being weak or unable to take care of oneself.  It means that I need to measure my days against the antonyms – were there places where I leaned on them?  If so, what did I gain and was it worth it?  Did that leave me with vague hints that a change (or even an apology) is needed? 

The only way we get deeper knowledge of another person is if we both are willing to be seen, honestly, without defenses. And, I often feel that when I make myself vulnerable, I allow others to try it out as well.  

I don’t overestimate how well I am doing: I am still vain, self-absorbed and protective.  But more vulnerability has made me happier and more connected, not frailer.  It feels like my later-in-life superpower…

Photo by Damir Korotaj on Unsplash

Circle of Friends

Getty Images, courtesy of Unsplash

A few weeks ago, I read an email from my friend Gary, part of regular, long-ish musings that he sends to a select few.  He was stimulated by the observation that people typically have no more than 150 friends and, true to his reflective nature, he dove in and found Robin Dunbar’s observations on friendship.  I mentioned this “fact” to my husband, who quickly noted that it was close to Harari’s observation in Sapiens that human societies change when their membership increases above 150, becoming more complex and often hierarchical.  Enter the blacksmith and the mayor….

Well, Gary is an extrovert who has lived in the same part of Minneapolis for almost his whole life.  He also worked for over 30 years in a position that thrust him into conversational spaces with faculty members from a more diverse group of departments than any other person at the University of Minnesota.  In other words, Gary is a social anomaly in our modern, mobile world. Many of the thousands of faculty and professional staff at the knew Gary, directly or indirectly and, coupled with his rootedness in the community,  I am sure he would recognize well over 150 people as pleasant acquaintances with whom he has shared conversations and food. As a thoughtful and interesting person, he could converse equally well with those immersed in Veterinary Medicine, Classics, or the Registrar’s office. His Christmas card list is long.  Distilled out of his hundreds of acquaintances is a core of 11 close friends who he has treasured for over 30 years.

As I reflected on his email, I felt small and a bit lonely!  I counted up my close friends (people I see or am in regular zoom contact and have known for 30+ years), and I could come up with only 3, or at a stretch, 4. I have no obvious social anxiety or deficiencies, so I had to starting thinking about why….

Unlike Gary, I have lived in four countries, 5 states and 16 distinct places. I graduated from high school and college at a time when a long-distance call cost real money.  My friends from those days are all highly mobile – none live where I grew up, and after college we all scattered across the globe.  And I more recently moved across several states.

When I think of a circle of friends, I go all the way back to junior high school and a a group that I had a 60th reunion with last year – that is me in the green sweater.  We live in different places, see each other every decade or so,  but we can start up a conversation as if no time had passed.  This means a lot: I feel joyful when I think of our shared adolescence and the interesting and fun people they continue to be.  I have not had a “circle of friends” like that since.

My friendships don’t fit neatly into a set of concentric circles that reflect differential “closeness” with me at the center.  As a member of overlapping national and international associations, I have a long-standing web of personal-professional relationships – people with whom I have regularly broken bread or shared coffee that that may be as large as Gary’s.  Whew – even though I am not a true extrovert, I seem to have a natural preference for connecting,  and when I think of the joy of finding someone who I really like in the lobby of a soulless hotel in a major city or another country, I smile. 

But I am retired, as are many of them. I am unlikely to travel to Florida just to see Joe or to Sweden to visit Olof and Helene, and we no longer have conferences that ensure meeting several times a year.  Still, looking back on the jokes, the work chatter interspersed with family life, the occasional sharing of hard stuff, music preferences, and furry companions, I know that they are much more than “acquaintances”.  It lightens my heart to know that I worked, over many years, in the company of people who mean much more to me than what they do or produce. 

A web is not a circle.  When I think of my “close friends” whom I have known for decades (and will get on an airplane to see) the list of expands a bit.  In this, I am in a community that ebbs and flows, a web where everyone is connected to others, directly or through me, and where we share the same feelings of care and concerns for each other.  I am not at the center and not at the edge, but our lives are intertwined even as they are separate. 

I am drawn to ask what we mean by friendship, beyond the obvious indicators of caring, trust, a sense of mutual intimacy and a shared sense of humor.  I have been  a mentor to many students, I have kept in regular touch with around 7, many of whom I have known for decades. Is that friendship, or something else?  Or the colleagues with whom I have shared years where we collaborated on projects that engaged us deeply?  They are so much more than acquaintances, yet not people who I would invite to a barbecue. I am grateful for each of them.  Karen Hering says that I  can claim them as companions on life’s journey.

Image courtesy of Nina Cvijo, on Unsplash

And what do I say about people with whom I have shared intense relationships – old loves, sponsors, mentors, co-conspirators of one kind or another – who are in my life for a shorter period, but who think of me as often as I think of them and who are forever sewn into my heart.  I can I can touch base with any of them when it feels right.  Claim them again….

In the end, I have decided that I can’t place people I have known within circles.  I want to remember them in the web of relationships that have meaning for me and for them – and that can be activated after many years with an email or a phone call to evoke a mutual burst of warmth and gratitude.