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Vulnerability Is The New Black

Did you see Brené Brown’s interview on CBS 60 Minutes a few weeks ago, where she sang the praises of vulnerability? It spoke to me. In fact, it moved me so much, I watched it again online because I didn’t want to miss a single piece of her wisdom. And it wasn’t just wisdom she doled out, it was confirmation of something I’ve always known: That being vulnerable is actually a strong move.

If you don’t know Brenè Brown, she’s a qualitative researcher, lecturer, TEDTalker, best-selling author, and badass when it comes to vulnerability.

I thought I was alone in my fear of vulnerability–even admitting it made me feel weak, but here comes Brenè Brown with 20 years of research and over 400,000 pieces of data to prove that vulnerability isn’t weakness, it’s the path to courage. There is no courage without vulnerability.

Vulnerability is the new black. It’s sexy, brave, and it’s everywhere. Vulnerability shows your humanness, and isn’t that what we’re all feeling right now? We’re in a time where we’re collectively vulnerable, searching for strength. Our vulnerability is on full display, and it’s OK according to Brenè, because “What makes you vulnerable, makes you beautiful.”

“The most vulnerable people I know are the toughest people I know.” –Brenè Brown.

Vulnerability teaches resilience, gives you grit, and makes you tougher. Vulnerability is the scariest ride you’ll ever take, but daring to step on it is the first step to conquering it.

It takes balls to admit you’re vulnerable/scared/lonely/helpless/anxious, but as Brenè cautions: “If you don’t name what you’re feeling, if you don’t own your feelings, and feel them, they will eat you alive.”

I’m terrible at vulnerability. Nothing makes me feel more out of control, exposed, and fragile. But that’s the lesson. We need to feel vulnerable in order to know what we’re made of, to know our worth, and see what we’re capable of.

I know this from my many years in the fitness business. After hundreds of classes and clients, I’ve seen what facing fears, powering through pain, and digging deep will do to somebody. I’ve seen the power of vulnerability take a self-doubting, fearful 80-year-old grandmother and turn her into the Bionic Woman; I’ve seen vulnerability take an overweight, self-loathing, single dad and turn him into the Six Million Dollar Man. Everything I do with my clients makes them feel vulnerable: from balancing on unstable surfaces, to releasing their egos. But I crack the whip and they beat back the vulnerability beast.

Me and vulnerability are a different story, though.

We’re “friends” right now, but it’s been a struggle. Usually I’m tough-as-nails, but when both my parents fell ill last December, all that changed. My father was diagnosed with cancer and died in January, and my mother continues to be in and out of the hospital suffering with Type-1 diabetes, pneumonia, sepsis, a broken hip, and coronavirus. As a result, I’ve been suffering too. And even though I have an insanely supportive husband, I’ve never felt more vulnerable in my life. Add in the backdrop of a pandemic, and you can see how beating back the vulnerability beast is a daily struggle for me.

How is this possible? I’m a life-long athlete, I’ve run five marathons, and was single till I was 51. If anyone knows how to tough it out, it should be me. WTF?!

I’m not sure this experience is showing me what I’m made of, but it’s sure showing me that I’m human.

The reality is, we’re all scared shitless right now. We’re all freaking the fuck out. There’s so much we have no control over, and if you’re like me, you’re fighting the feeling with everything you’ve got. But here’s the deal: “Vulnerability may be the core of shame, and fear, and our struggle for worthiness, but it also appears that it’s the birthplace of joy, creativity and love,” according to Brenè.

My hope is that when coronavirus is all over, we’ll look back at ourselves with a sense of pride. We’ll have seen what we’re made of, what our worth is, what we’re capable of, and we will be stronger people for it.

Vulnerability is the new black, so wear it well my friends.

Same Footsteps, Different Paths

IMG_0003She was in her early 20s, just off the boat from Scotland; he was in his early 30s, newly transplanted from Brooklyn when they met and married in the 50’s.

Robby and I will be well into our 50s when we walk down the aisle for the first time.

They had a half a handful of relationships before tying the knot; Robby and I will have dated half the world before getting hitched.

They were young and inexperienced: she was an entry-level secretary at CBS; he was right out of the mailroom at William Morris; Robby and I are old pros with years of life experience under our belt.

They were just starting out, finding their way, not fully knowing themselves, or the ways of the world; Robby and I have been around the block, graduated from the school of hard knocks, and have the battle scars to show for it.

When they got married, they were building a life, planning for a family, and preparing for the future; Robby and I are already established and are looking forward to building on what we already have.

When my parents had sex, they made a baby; in about five minutes Robby and I will be sexy senior citizens.

When they moved in together, they had nothing, not even a pot to piss in; Robby and I already have our own sets of dishes, a blender, a hand mixer, a vacuum, AND a pot to piss in. We don’t really need anything, but we registered anyway because who couldn’t use a new pot?

They had goals and hopes and dreams for the future; so do we, but we’re also happy to be in the present.

They were early adopters; we’re late bloomers.

The comparisons and differences are many, but there’s one thing we all proudly did together:

WE MARRIED FOR LOVE.

Not for money, not for power, not for status, not for a green card, or because of obligation or pressure. Not for any other reason, just love.

IMG_0002Like Frank Sinatra, we did it our way – on our terms, at our own pace, in our own time. And like Paul and Sonjia Brandon, we’re doing it with integrity.

Here’s how my mother describes starting out with my father:

SONJIA:

“He was handsome, he was nice, he was a good person, and he appreciated my humor. We didn’t have much money, but we had love, and we got by. We had a small wedding at a little shul on Beverly Blvd., and had to borrow a car to go on our honeymoon since his car was in the shop. In those days, you didn’t wait to get married. It was the thing to do, and I’m glad we did because, well, we had you.”

Unfortunately, their marriage didn’t last, but knowing their story and hearing how they met has always been a source of inspiration for me. Robby’s and my path to the altar may look very different from my parents’ path, but in many ways, we’re following exactly in their footsteps.

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