I am afraid of being vulnerable. On the surface, I know that I am attractive, intelligent, diligent, and passionately creative. But beneath the surface, I am, in large measure, a confused little boy led by impulses and the need to feel and appear bigger than I am.

I’ve made some important and valuable changes in myself and my life this year. I’ve grown in confidence and focus. I’ve become more willing to speak my truth without fear of reprisal. And I see the benefits, the results. I live in a nice house, not far from the beach. I own my own business. I’m fulfilling my dream of writing novels.

But still, there’s a hole. There’s something missing. And today I believe that something is the willingness to be courageously vulnerable, to take down the walls, and to let others see and know the real me.

Vulnerability is a challenge for me because it requires trust. It requires trust in a greater good, a surrender of control to that greater good, and a willingness to falter, to fall, to be hurt. And the scared little boy that is much of who I am doesn’t like to be hurt.

Who, after all, would want to be hurt, but a masochist?

But that’s not the point. The point is that without exposing the real me to the real you, we can’t connect on any significant level. And with that exposure, that connection, comes the risk of being hurt. When I choose to see the benefit of connection as far outweighing the risk of feeling hurt, I can make the choice to be more open, to connect at a deeper and more meaningful level. Isn’t that what life here is really about? Connecting with others and sharing, good and bad, sorrow and joy, pleasure and pain, wonder and disenchantment? What is the value of love when love is not made real in its sharing? And what is life without love?

Thanks for reading,