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  • Writer: Julie Barris | Crisis Counselor | Therapist-in-Training
    Julie Barris | Crisis Counselor | Therapist-in-Training
  • 3 days ago

Learning to let vulnerability in isn’t about being weak—it’s about being brave enough to show up as your full self, even when it feels uncomfortable. The path to deeper connection begins with learning to let vulnerability in, gently replacing old armor with authentic presence.

The Armor We Outgrow: Learning to Let Vulnerability In

From a young age, many of us learn that vulnerability equals weakness. We’re taught to “be strong,” “hold it together,” and “never let them see you cry.” Whether through subtle cultural messages or direct experiences of being shamed or ignored when we opened up, we internalize the belief that showing our pain makes us less worthy, less capable, and less safe.


So we adapt. We toughen up. We smile through sadness. We perfect the art of small talk to avoid the heaviness of real talk. And we wonder why we feel so disconnected, even in rooms full of people.


But what if vulnerability isn’t weakness? What if it’s actually the bravest thing we can offer?


What Vulnerability Really Looks Like


Vulnerability isn’t just crying in front of someone or confessing deep secrets. It can look like asking for help, admitting “I don’t know,” or telling someone “That hurt me.” It’s choosing to speak even when your voice shakes, to stay in the moment even when everything inside you wants to run.


It’s also boundaries, honesty, and showing up authentically—even if that means risking rejection or judgment. Vulnerability is raw and courageous. It invites others to meet us in our truth. Without it, relationships become performance pieces, not real partnerships.



Why We Struggle With It


Many of us have very good reasons for struggling with vulnerability. Maybe we were punished or mocked for being emotional. Maybe we were raised in environments where survival depended on hiding pain. Or maybe we’ve been hurt when we dared to open up—and decided never again.



These defense mechanisms helped us cope, but over time, they can become armor that limits our growth. We start avoiding the very things that could lead to healing: hard conversations, emotional expression, intimacy.


The fear of being “too much” or “not enough” keeps us silent. But silence doesn’t protect—it isolates.


Practicing Vulnerability in Small, Brave Ways


You don’t have to rip off the armor all at once. Start gently. Vulnerability is a muscle—it strengthens with use. Here are a few ways to practice it:


  • Name your emotions aloud. Even something as simple as “I’m feeling overwhelmed right now” invites connection.


  • Start with safe people. Choose those who’ve earned your trust. Share something small and see how they respond.


  • Ask for what you need. Instead of waiting to be noticed, try saying, “I could really use a hug right now” or “Can we talk? I’m having a hard day.”


  • Let go of perfection. Show up messy. It’s okay if you don’t have the perfect words—honesty matters more than polish.


  • Use journaling as a warm-up. Write what you’re feeling before you try to speak it out loud. This helps clarify what’s going on inside.


Vulnerability Is a Two-Way Street


Being vulnerable invites others to do the same. When we lead with honesty, we create safer spaces for real connection. That doesn’t mean every person will meet you where you are—but the right ones will. And that’s how true relationships are built.


You may be surprised by the way people soften when they see the real you. Because underneath all our masks, we’re all just trying to be seen, loved, and understood.


Final Thought


Vulnerability won’t always feel safe—but neither does loneliness, disconnection, or the exhaustion of always pretending you’re okay. When we choose vulnerability, we choose growth, authenticity, and deeper bonds.


So ask yourself: What might open up in your life if you stopped hiding how you really feel?


 

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The Whale: A Wake-Up Call for Self-Acceptance and the Dangerous Delusion of Escaping Reality

Darren Aronofsky's The Whale is a harrowing exploration of pain, guilt, and self-destruction. With Brendan Fraser’s powerful portrayal of Charlie, a man suffering from morbid obesity, the film delves deep into the complexity of human relationships, especially the strained bond between Charlie and his estranged daughter. But beyond the emotional weight of Charlie's struggles, the film also subtly challenges our perceptions of addiction, particularly through the lens of his daughter’s marijuana use. While this element of the story may seem secondary, it offers a sharp commentary on how substances, such as marijuana, are often used as a way to numb pain—and how they ultimately hinder true healing.


The Illusion of Escape: Marijuana as a Coping Mechanism


One of the key emotional undercurrents of The Whale is the daughter’s use of marijuana, which she relies on to escape the overwhelming emotions she’s too afraid to confront. Though the film doesn’t directly focus on her addiction, her reliance on marijuana serves as a quiet but potent symbol of avoidance. By using marijuana, she creates a temporary buffer from her inner turmoil and the unresolved anger she holds toward her father. However, much like Charlie's struggles with food, this coping mechanism offers only a fleeting sense of relief.


The way The Whale portrays marijuana use in this context underlines an important, often overlooked point: substances might provide short-term escape, but they never truly address the underlying pain. The film doesn't glamorize or trivialize marijuana use, nor does it offer a simplistic view of addiction. Instead, it shows how these distractions merely allow the characters to perpetuate cycles of avoidance and emotional stagnation—while ultimately leaving them stuck in their pain.



The Power of Self-Acceptance


At the heart of The Whale lies a deeper message about self-acceptance and the healing that comes from confronting our own truths. Charlie’s journey, though filled with intense shame and self-loathing, highlights the significance of accepting who we are—flaws and all. His story is a reminder that true healing isn’t found in hiding from our emotions or seeking external fixes, but in embracing the parts of ourselves we’ve been taught to hide or reject.


The film subtly contrasts Charlie’s inner turmoil with his daughter’s struggles, particularly her inability to accept the reality of their fractured relationship. Both characters cling to illusions—Charlie to the belief that his body can provide protection from emotional pain, and his daughter to the hope that marijuana can keep her from facing the truth of their past. Yet, both find themselves suffocating under the weight of these illusions, unable to move forward until they face the truth.


Charlie’s path to redemption isn’t found in finding an external solution or having someone "save" him—it’s in realizing that only he can save himself through the slow, painful process of self-acceptance.


Only You Can Save Yourself


The Whale makes a sobering point: while we may lean on substances, food, people, or other distractions in an attempt to escape our pain, ultimately, we are the ones who must do the difficult work of healing. No one can rescue us from the darkness we face except ourselves. It’s only by confronting our inner demons—accepting the things we’ve tried to avoid—that we can begin to move toward real change.


Charlie’s story demonstrates the profound impact that self-acceptance can have on our mental health and overall well-being. The film is a stark reminder that healing is not an easy road, nor is it a quick fix. It requires us to face the parts of ourselves we most want to run from and, in doing so, reclaim the power to heal.


An Eye-Opening Question


As we watch Charlie struggle with his past and his daughter’s painful detachment, we are left with one compelling question: How often do we rely on distractions—whether it’s substances, relationships, or unhealthy coping mechanisms—to escape our own pain, and what might happen if we dared to face our truth and practice self-acceptance instead?


 

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  • Writer: Julie Barris | Crisis Counselor | Therapist-in-Training
    Julie Barris | Crisis Counselor | Therapist-in-Training
  • Dec 22, 2024

In a world that constantly encourages self-love and positivity, it can feel almost offensive to say I don’t love myself, as if admitting such a thing makes me weak or unworthy. The pressure to always feel good about ourselves can make it seem offensive to say I don’t love myself, but in reality, it’s a raw and honest expression of what so many people experience silently.

Is It Really That Offensive to Say I Don’t Love Myself? You Might Be Surprised

Self-love. It’s a term that gets tossed around a lot these days—on social media, in therapy sessions, and in the self-help books that promise us the world if we just “learn to love ourselves.” But here's the truth that no one likes to admit: It’s more common than you think to not love yourself. In fact, it might be more relatable than you’d expect.


Now, before you throw your hands up in disbelief or start mentally defending your self-worth, take a moment to think: how often do you criticize yourself? How many times have you looked in the mirror and felt disappointment or, worse, disgust? How frequently do you feel like you're just not enough?


We’ve all heard the phrase “you can’t love others until you love yourself,” but what if loving yourself feels impossible, or worse, offensive to admit? For some, saying “I don’t love myself” doesn’t feel like a simple expression of self-awareness—it feels like a betrayal of the very thing we’re supposed to strive for. After all, society, friends, family, and even our inner voices push us to believe that self-love is a requirement for mental health and happiness. But is that even realistic?


The Hidden Reality: Why Self-Love Feels Elusive


When we talk about self-love, we often envision unwavering confidence, positive affirmations, and a life filled with self-compassion. But the reality is far murkier. Self-love is not an all-or-nothing experience. It ebbs and flows, and for many, it feels more like a constant battle than a peaceful state of being.


If you’ve ever found yourself thinking:


  • “I don’t deserve to feel good about myself.”

  • “I should be further along in life by now.”

  • “I’m just not as good as other people.”


…you’re not alone. In fact, many people feel this way every single day. But society tells us to hide it. We're expected to fake it, put on a brave face, and pretend that everything is fine—even when it’s not.


And that’s where the problem lies. We’re conditioned to believe that self-love is an innate ability—something we should just “snap into” if we try hard enough. But for people who struggle with anxiety, depression, or past trauma, it can feel like trying to climb an emotional mountain that’s too steep and too slippery to reach the top.


The Pressure to "Love Yourself" Is Not Always Helpful


Self-love is often painted as a shiny, attainable goal: if you don’t love yourself, you’re broken, missing something, or failing at life. In reality, the path to self-love is a messy, ongoing journey. It isn’t just about chanting affirmations or making sure you practice mindfulness every day—it’s about accepting the parts of yourself you find unlovable, learning to be kind when you feel unworthy, and offering yourself grace when your self-criticism runs wild.


Let’s face it: telling someone who’s struggling to love themselves to “just love yourself” doesn’t help. For someone in a difficult mental space, these simple words can feel like a dismissal, or worse, a judgment of their worth. It’s like telling someone with a broken leg to “just walk it off.” It invalidates the complexity of their experience.


So, what does it really mean to love yourself, and why is it so hard to admit you don’t?


The Culture of Shame: Why We Can’t Say "I Don’t Love Myself"


We live in a culture that places a premium on perfection and achievement. We’re taught that we must be happy, positive, and confident all the time. Showing vulnerability or admitting that we don’t love ourselves feels almost like failing. The shame associated with struggling to accept yourself often makes it impossible to speak honestly about your inner experience.


And yet, saying "I don't love myself" is not as shocking as we might think. It’s actually a common experience for many people, and it’s absolutely okay to admit it. By naming it, we can start to understand it and break down the stigma surrounding our emotional struggles.


Reframing Self-Love: Small Steps Toward Radical Compassion


If you’re struggling to love yourself, here’s the good news: you don’t have to “love yourself” in the conventional sense to start healing. Sometimes, it’s about taking small, compassionate steps toward self-acceptance. Here’s how:


  1. Stop the Negative Self-Talk: Start paying attention to how you talk to yourself. Is your inner dialogue full of judgment? Begin by replacing harsh thoughts with neutral observations. For example, instead of saying, “I’m a failure,” try “I didn’t succeed this time, but I can learn from this.”


  2. Allow Yourself to Feel: Self-love isn’t about ignoring your emotions; it’s about embracing them. If you’re feeling low, let yourself feel low—without judgment. You are allowed to feel everything you feel, without labeling yourself as unworthy.


  3. Seek Support, Not Perfection: Reaching out for help doesn’t mean you’re broken—it means you’re human. Whether it’s through therapy, support groups, or confiding in friends, sharing your experience can help you begin to see yourself as worthy of love, even when you don’t feel it.


  4. Celebrate Small Wins: Self-love doesn’t have to be a grand gesture. It’s about recognizing the small victories: waking up, showing up, taking a shower, going to work. These are all acts of self-care, and they matter more than you might think.


  5. Understand Self-Love Is Not Perfection: Loving yourself doesn’t mean being perfect. It’s about being kind to yourself, even when you feel imperfect. Embrace your flaws as part of who you are, not as obstacles to self-love.


Breaking the Silence: Can We Talk About It?


So, here’s the question: Why is it so offensive to say “I don’t love myself,” and what would happen if we were all just a little more honest about it?


Maybe the real key to healing lies not in pretending to love ourselves all the time but in accepting that we can love ourselves even when we don’t feel it. Embracing the vulnerability of not being “okay” all the time could be the very thing that breaks us free from the shame and isolation we often experience. It’s okay not to have it all figured out. In fact, it’s more than okay—it’s essential to our collective healing.


By speaking honestly about our struggles, we open the door to compassion, connection, and ultimately, the kind of self-love that’s grounded in authenticity, not perfection.


 

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