Vulnerability is critical to deep and intimate relationships. Try as we might, there is no getting around this basic fact of relating. To reveal our deep, guarded inner selves and have that met and held with respect by another person is the very essence of intimacy, but to get there requires immense vulnerability. And vulnerability is hard work.

Brené Brown, probably the world’s leading expert on vulnerability (if you’ve been living under a rock and haven’t seen her TED talk on the subject, go watch it now!) writes:

‘There can be no intimacy—emotional intimacy, spiritual intimacy, physical intimacy—without vulnerability. One of the reasons there is such an intimacy deficit today is because we don’t know how to be vulnerable. It’s about being honest with how we feel, about our fears, about what we need, and, asking for what we need. Vulnerability is glue that holds intimate relationships together.’

Vulnerability is easier on paper than it is in reality. We crave vulnerability in others as much as we fear revealing it in ourselves, but it’s taken me a long time to work out why this is.

Offensive and defensive vulnerability

I spend a lot of time in the menswork community and, for a while, vulnerability was a massive buzzword in men’s groups and events. The question put to us was how could we men (who are notoriously guarded) be more vulnerable with each other and our loved ones? There was pressure to open up and let everything inside be revealed.

What happened is that our attempts at vulnerability devolved into onslaughts of over-sharing, that left those on the receiving end feeling as if they’d been run over by a semi-trailer. Conversely, men would share something small and precious that left the audience feeling hungry, as if they’d had an appetizer rather than the main course. There was no doubt that vulnerability was important, but in these failed attempts something didn’t seem right to me.

These attempts at vulnerability I call offensive and defensive vulnerability. In offensive vulnerability a person uses over-vulnerability, sharing details in such quantity that the recipient is overwhelmed by the content. In defensive vulnerability, a  restricted amount of vulnerable information is divulged. Both strategies have the same end: to protect a deeper vulnerability, by burying it in an avalanche of oversharing or creating a tiny target that provides enough to satisfy but not enough to go deeper.

Why can’t we just be vulnerable and why the hell is it so hard?

Let the soft animal of your body love what it loves

We adopted a rescue cat, Mia, who came into our lives as a timid kitten. She’d been found abandoned and, with her brother, one of only two survivors in her. Mia was a shy thing, who scurried away from my hulking six-foot frame as I clobbered around the house, who liked to be in a safe and secure nest before we could approach or pat her.

When we watched a movie on the couch she’d sit close enough to be social but far enough to be safe. ‘Pat me with your eyes,’ her expression told us. It took months before she’d let us physically pat her, and always on her terms, not for too long and only on her head.

A year after Mia came into our lives, one day to my surprise I came over to pat her and she rolled on to her back to expose her soft belly, the most vulnerable part of her body. I gave her nice belly a rub and she purred like crazy. She was a bit freaked out afterwards and retreated for a while, but then a few days later she did it again. And again. It was then that I knew she finally trusted me and considered me safe.

There is no vulnerability without safety

Mia took a risk. She exposed her most vulnerable part and if I chose, I could have harmed her. But I didn’t, I responded with respect to her vulnerability. This allowed her to be vulnerable again and to grow more confident around me. It deepened our relationship, as much as one can have a deep relationship with a pet.

This also answered the question of why we engage in offensive and defensive vulnerability. Brown defines vulnerability as ‘doing something where you don’t know what the outcome will be’. Like saying ‘I love you’ to a prospective new partner, not knowing how they will respond. Or phoning someone up to ask them on a date. Or saying what you are really feeling on the inside.

Paradoxically, vulnerability requires a certain amount of safety to be present. If I go rock climbing, a potentially risky endeavour where I could injure myself or even die, I want to be assured of my safety. I want to know that my harness is working, that the ropes aren’t frayed and have been checked, that my buddy isn’t under the influence of anything and so-on.

Likewise, in relationships I need to trust that the other person will not use my vulnerability against me. I need to be reasonably confident that if I show them my belly they won’t exploit my vulnerability. Of course, there is never any guarantee that they won’t. There is always some element of risk, just as there is always an element of risk when I go rock climbing or when Mia lets me pat her belly. But without that presumption of safety, I cannot be vulnerable. I will be tense, expectant, on the lookout for harm. I will overshare or under share to keep myself safe.

Is vulnerability the chicken or the egg?

What supports my feeling safe to be vulnerable? It’s that I trust that you will  not cause me harm when I show my vulnerability. When Mia shows me her belly, I respect her by not taking advantage of it. When a friend shares something intimate, I respect what they have told me by maintaining confidentiality and not using it against them at a later date. That respect builds trust and trust creates safety and safety allows vulnerability. I call this cycle the wheel of vulnerability.

The reason we men struggled with vulnerability was that we didn’t feel safe. It’s not that we were at risk of harm but sometimes it’s a chicken and an egg situation: we need to show vulnerability to garner respect in order to build trust and feel safe, but we need respect, trust and safety to show vulnerability. At some point you have to take the risk and dive in, but it helps if you have a degree of safety first. The best way to do this is with small doses of vulnerability, titrated in settings that you know are safe. As you progress, you can build it up from there.

Your vulnerability creates respect and deepens intimacy

Displays of vulnerability increase respect. The more you are vulnerable with someone, the more likely they will respect you for your depth and disclosure. The more we are vulnerable with each other the deeper we can go together. When it’s received with respect, vulnerability can become a self-perpetuating loop that garners more respect and deepens relationships. Because real connections are forged in the fire of mutual respect and vulnerability.

The take-away

The bottom line is that real vulnerability is hard work and takes time and a whole lot of safety and trust to be possible. If you are finding it difficult to be truly vulnerable in your relationships don’t push yourself throughout if another part of you is saying no. Ask yourself: what can I do to make myself feel safer? Is there anything I can ask of my partner to allow me to trust more (even asking for this may require a level of vulnerability). What is the smallest amount of vulnerability I can allow myself in this situation? It may be a struggle at times, but you will make it.

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