In Praise of Showing Up Broken
Or, how I learned to value vulnerability even though it's hard as hell to do.
There is a certain type of retreat that many people will perform within their most important relationships when their lives are upside down and they aren’t their best selves. Please understand that I am not advocating being a dick to the people you love because you aren’t doing well. I'm just saying retreating entirely when things are rough doesn’t serve the relationship either. Or yourself. Or anyone who loves you. There is a middle ground where you can be authentic, remain connected, request care, and take accountability that feels impossible for many people to navigate. Let’s talk about some of the possibilities of why this may be occurring.
These are the people who are wonderful when life is going to plan. They are attentive and kind and present and everything that you want someone in your circle to be. But when they are struggling, they become distant, silent, or withdrawn. You have no idea where they went, either physically or emotionally and can’t get any real information about it.
If they do engage with you it feels combative. Accusations are made that have only the most tenuous relation to reality. And it isn’t a function of narcissism. In the year of our Dave Grohl, 2023 we do love accusing people of being narcissist gaslighters, but that’s not what’s happening in this case. Narcissists feel empty on the inside and build up this large external persona to compensate. When that persona is pierced in any way, they feel attacked and lash out. Or deflate completely. I am talking about when someone is clearly shadowboxing some inner demons and you seem to somehow end up in the room with them.
It happens when people are afraid of the vulnerability it takes to show up broken. There are cultural norms around this behavior. Men aren’t supposed to show up broken. Strong Black women, Indigenous aunties, community leaders, and many more groups of people are socialized to have spines and nerves of steel who never slow down or give up. There is at least some level of recognition that we are playing a predefined role in those cases. But my work as a trauma therapist has led me to believe that there is also an even more preconscious component to this disengagement.
Many people grow up as ghost children in their own homes. That someone else in the household had a higher level of needs so their needs were often missed. Sometimes it was unintentional on the part of the adults raising them, they were overwhelmed with so many other needs the lowest-need individual eventually faded out of the picture. And sometimes it was intentional, explicated emotional neglect. They not only would be punished for behaviors deemed problematic (like being grounded for an F, they would also be punished for expressing needs (like asking for help with their homework they don’t understand so they don’t get an F to begin with).
Tolerance of their presence was based on them not asking for anything in return. So when they were hurting, they retreated away from the adults raising them. They knew that at best, care would not be provided. And at worst, they would be punished for expressing a need for care. So into adulthood they either retreat or push those around them into retreating. And eventually they fade out of the picture.
I remember, very recently, expressing to a friend that I don’t ask for much. Their response was that maybe that was the problem. Maybe I needed to start asking for more. Mind blown in middle age. And I think about, for all of us former ghost children, how valuable it is for us to swing for the fences. And I realized something else really important. As an adult, I have never regretted leaning into vulnerability.
I’ve never regretted the times I’ve swung for the fences even though I didn’t typically clear them. Vulnerability hasn’t gotten me what I wanted even most of the time. And that wasn’t the point. The willingness to be in the game was. The recognition that I was good enough and deserving enough to **try** was the point. Not getting the outcome I wanted was a bummer…but it wasn’t a reason to stop showing up. And when did I achieve the outcome I was hoping for? Life became so much more than my sad, lonely, and uncomforted inner child ever thought possible.
Typically when I’m talking to someone who has a history of mistrusting others, I suggest starting small. Like, If someone offers to help, give them a task that has a low impact on your life. If they disappoint you, it’s not a big deal. Don’t put someone in charge of the whole Thanksgiving dinner, just ask them to bring napkins. Metaphorically or otherwise.
But this is a different. We’re talking about people that you already deeply care about and have a relationship with. People we have already shown up for and had them show up for us. We just don’t know if we can show up with these real and emergent needs. We have a history of fading out or pushing them out when we fear our needs are too much. What happens if we give ourselves permission to show up however we actually are? What happens if we show up messy? Hurting? Broken?
Not put them in charge of taking care of us, but letting them care for us. Not to save us, but to let us be safe in their presence. To do the real emotional work of being flawed and damaged humans actively engaged in doing and being better. We don’t clear every fence we swing for. Maybe the person in question doesn’t have the capacity to love us through our worst times. But we won’t ever know who can and will until we try.
Where can you risk showing up broken?
Even if you’re thinking it’s too late….what if it isn’t?