On Vulnerability

I’m ready to share.

I wrote the first two entries on this blog back in September, and haven’t written since. I made the blog private because I wasn’t ready to be so vulnerable, but I’m ready now.
vul·ner·a·ble: susceptible to physical or emotional attack or harm.
Something I learned in therapy is that people who allow themselves to be vulnerable tend to be happier than those who do not; I now see the truth in that statement. I always considered myself to be an open book, completely open and honest with people, but that isn’t true at all.
I was only that way as long as it didn’t go too deep. I love Summer! Ever After is my favorite movie! I hate iced tea!
Always keeping people at arm’s length.
Yup, vulnerability at its finest.
Well, I’ve learned the true meaning of vulnerability. Therapy forces it out of you… a nudge here, a gentle push there… until you’re realizing things and saying things that you never even knew you felt.
My father was a binge-eater; I know he was always fat, and I know my mom always found candy bar and vending machine food wrappers in his car. I never thought this was strange; I just assumed he didn’t want her to bug him about his poor food choices. Now, in my 31-year-old wiseness, I recognize the evidence of his binges. At eight years old, I remember my mother and I sharing a half-gallon of ice cream as if it were a pint–what, you mean people don’t do that? Huh… well, we did. I never stood a chance.