Vulnerability never came easy for me. I’ve built a suit of armor over nearly five decades. Sometimes it protected me when I needed it most. Sometimes it disadvantaged me by preventing vulnerability in the right type and quantity. But here’s the thing about never removing a suit of armor. Our body gets accustomed to it as though it’s an extension of our own bodies. We adapt and create what we need to for bearing the weight of our armor. Perhaps if we removed the armor, our body would be unable to function normally without the weight and shape of the armor. We may not even be able to achieve balance required to stand up because we’re constantly compensating for the armor. It makes us less vulnerable to attacks but prevents us from ever adapting.
Emotional vulnerability
Yes, that was a description of a physical suit of armor. Perhaps if we think about it, the psychological suit of armor is even more substantial. Our minds are incredibly powerful tools. Often much more capable and powerful than even our well-conditioned bodies. By building these psychological suits of armor, we eventually build up a defense that even the strongest attacks cannot penetrate. Yes, it does a great job of protecting us from difficult things we may encounter in life. But the truth is, we never build any tolerance to live life without that suit of armor. Frequently, our response to perceived vulnerability is to continually add to the armor. Rather than slowly adapting by revealing vulnerability in small amounts and at the right time.
It’s like callouses. Formed by our skin against friction. They build and grow to protect the skin and reduce the physical vulnerability. But if we use a form of armor for protection, the callouses will never form. Most often, wearing gloves or shoes accomplishes this. Extended friction without that protection leads to blisters. When callouses from, we no longer require protection to prevent blisters. It’s much the same for our psychological suit of armor. When we wear the strongest armor we can build, we never grow callouses. We never expose ourselves to friction so the armor does its’ perceived job of protecting us. There is an exploratory study here that looks at psychological body armor. However, it is more focused on responses to PTS events.
Allowing vulnerability to enable growth
Another way to look at it is the lack of exposure to vulnerability. If we build up this vast suit of armor but never test it, how would we even know it works? We could go through life avoiding tough situations, tough conversations, or any type of controversy and feel well protected. Perhaps we are well-protected in this instance, provided there are no unknown vulnerabilities. But an armor never tested is an armor that is likely inadequate. This can lead to significant emotional distress in the event the armor test finally arrives at the most inopportune time. This is when we build that armor against all emotional or psychological vulnerability and an unexpected crisis occurs. But how do we create that exposure in the right dosages, over time?
Exposure to friction is a proven way to build natural protection. The only way to obtain that friction is to allow vulnerability. The best part is that we can control this. We typically get to choose how and when we allow vulnerability. By getting just outside what we typically do, we can start to build that natural protection. Rather than remaining dependent upon the armor we’ve so carefully crafted over the whole of our lifetime. Maintenance on that armor comes at an ever-increasing cost. Preventing vulnerability can be far more exhausting than just building the natural protection.
What I’m doing
Ok, confession time: I’m describing myself here. This is my almost five-decade long journey of building that armor. Of test avoidance. Never revealing my vulnerability. Always projecting a tough façade. Sure, we cannot live life in any form, aside from reclusiveness, without some tests. However, we can also position ourselves to avoid testing in suboptimal situations. So, as I encountered tests, I would continue improving the armor. Not a lot of focus on the callous building effort. I now see this as a fundamentally flawed design for my life. However, ripping off the Band-Aid isn’t always the best method. So, I’m working on my comfort. Embracing more vulnerability. To begin building those callouses by adding small exposure to friction.
We talk a lot about growth beginning once we step outside our comfort zone. While vulnerability may not be comfortable for me, I am now far less comfortable to remain in my current state. These are part of the changes I’m working on. A year ago, there’s no way I would be confessing my psychological armor for the entire internet-connected world to access and see. Perhaps it will erode the armor a little faster than I’m comfortable with. I think I’m okay with that. I’m in a different place now. One where I have more clarity on myself than ever before. It is also one where I want to acknowledge and share this journey in the hopes that it will help others on their own journey.
Read my story here.