Vulnerability & the Authentic Self

What does it mean to be truly authentic?

In an age of Instagram filters and carefully curated newsfeeds, it seems rather incongruous that there be greater and greater cries for “genuine authenticity”. We live in an era of constructed realities, and as such we present our “selves” to the world at large, thinking carefully, all the while, about the stories we wish to portray. We use labels to ascribe meaning to the self. Labels themselves are, of course, for better or worse, imbued with identity. But while labels provide neat (and not-so-neat) categories to define us, rarely are they the sum of the self or our best representation. (Feminists and other social theorists would make a nod to the concept of intersectionality here. But, I digress…)

For years I struggled to self-identify. My blog, my Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram feeds – all of them are equally guilty representations of an effort to define who I was, am, and want to be. One liners and careful single-word modifiers highlight the version of the self that I want(ed) to portray, though try as I might, all of it fell short of describing me at my core. It is, perhaps, because of my effort to confine myself to these little boxes that I’ve had such a difficult time really understanding who I am, and why all the pieces don’t seemingly fit together. Little hats, and all that.

The authentic self is more than a catch phrase

The struggle for authenticity requires us to peel back the shallow layers of meaning we use to ascribe identity and instead look to the very heart of us. Authenticity is soul-deep. It is our truest self at our very core. And it is this very core of us that struggles, against all odds, to cultivate true meaningful connections with other human beings.  Deep within the majority of us lies a profound need for human connection. Sometimes romantic, sometimes platonic, most of us crave a particular kind of interaction with others of our species. But, far too often, our genuine self is shrouded by masks that protect us from being vulnerable. We craft for ourselves protections that would safeguard the most tender parts of us but, in the process, hide our true selves from that which might hurt.

Brene Brown, in a TED Talk on Vulnerability states that “in order to for connection to happen, we have to allow ourselves to be seen, really seen…” Human connection is a gift predicated on exposing our innermost selves to the world in the hopes that it will be appreciated, celebrated, and adored. But frequently, we diminish our true selves and, rather than make ourselves vulnerable, seek to protect.  This, according to Brown, is born of a deep seated fear that we will be seen as not good enough.

Adaptive Mechanisms and Failed Biologies

Shame and fear are learned traits. Fear and anxiety do, of course, serve a long-standing biological function as both are meant to trigger fight or flight adaptive mechanisms necessary for survival. In the modern context however, fear may well work against us, stunting honest and true human connection by preventing us from revealing our authentic self.

In the process of courtship this is how games begin. How often are we told not to appear too eager? How frequently are we told to “play it cool” or “play hard to get”? Playing at that which we are not hides what we truly are.

Brown argues that in order to forge true connections with other human beings, the desire and ability to be vulnerable must supersede our fear or shame mechanisms. To connect, to belong, and to develop intimate, loving relationships necessitates exposing ourselves and living fearlessly with the belief that we are good enough for the very thing that we seek.

But how do we get there when fears have been so deeply ingrained in us? When our behaviours have been policed by parenting and socialization? How do we erase decades of programming and celebrate our vulnerability?

Love and Vulnerability

As a method of self-reflection, I’ve taken a lot of time over the past few months to think about my personality, the parts I’ve let out, the parts I’ve kept hidden, and the parts that I so desperately want to reveal. At my core, the self that wants to love, loves freely in return. It is a self that expresses love in abundance, in tokens such as hand made cards or surprise gifts, and gestures, such as meals shared cooking and eating together in celebration of nothing more than a day. It is a self that longs to love without hesitation, a self that without qualm will pick up a phone to call or text, a gesture that exists simply to remind another that someone cares for you today.

But the self that I reveal is rarely that side of me. Instead, the self that comes out is plagued by fear that I’ll be seen as needy or wanting, desperate or clingy. It is a self that was told for decades, “Let boys call you first”, “Know your place”, and, more recently, “Some crazy girl showed up at my place and threw me a surprise party for my birthday. Don’t be that girl! I dumped that girl!” This self doesn’t know what to trust and is so unsure of who and how to be that it fails to be at all. This self so desperately wants to be liked by others, it forgets to like itself. It is this self that needs to be rewritten, to be allowed to be vulnerable.

It is this very heart of me that wishes to know the very heart of you.