For years, I have said, “I can do anything for a set amount of time.”  What I meant was that I could push through, persevere, maybe even suffer if I knew how long it was going to last.  My mindset was one of buckling down, shoring up the personal armor and making the best of it.

Why was I choosing to do that?  Good question!  Sometimes, it seemed like the only way.  Other times, I believe I didn’t have the courage to share my true self, to trust that the person on the other side could support my truth or would want to see it.  It makes me sad to reflect on this – and yet – it is part of my story.  It has been part of my journey and certainly part of my learning.

It was also very hard to maintain.  It takes a lot of energy to keep pushing yourself through something when it doesn’t feel good.  I found myself with holes in my armor and no way to patch it except to close off parts of me – especially my heart – deep protection.  And, yet I was feeling the effects.  I have always had big feelings that I often feel like I cannot contain.  They spill out of me and on to others and yikes!

Recently and on more than one occasion, friends have referred to me – very casually in conversation-as if I know this, as if it is a fact – as an empath.  I noticed it happening and yet didn’t want to ask the questions to more clearly understand as I wanted to hold on to that for a bit myself.  Put it in my pocket.  Check in on the meaning for me and for them.

There is an aspect of highly sensitive people and empaths walking hand in hand.  That makes sense to me.  In large and small groups and one on one-I often feel what is happening.  I feel it in my chest and in my gut.  Sometimes it feels like butterflies of excitement and other times it feels like constricting fear and all kinds of emotions  in between.

I once read a children’s book out loud to a group of co-workers as part of a diversity activity.  It is a beautiful story of humans being welcoming, accepting and kind to one another after a period of not remembering how.  I stood in front of the group, reading the story and sharing the illustrations and I cried.  I cried the entire time that I read the story, pausing  occasionally to gather myself enough to continue.

It was a gift.  My co-workers gave me the gift of time by silently holding space for me to share a story that was quite obviously important to me.  My heart gave me the gift of being vulnerable as I moved through a slightly uncomfortable situation.

As I share this with you, I am struck by how my moving through and persevering may have been a gift that I hadn’t yet fully unwrapped.  Maybe the “getting through” in harmony with the vulnerability does allow for movement and growth.  It’s the both and model.   For me the key is in the vulnerability part-as I had decided not to share that part of me – which made the getting through difficult for me and for others.

It’s easier now.  The flow of vulnerability into doing and being – less awkward more real.  And, it feels right for me.