Unexpected Benefits of Being Vulnerable on the Internet

Pleasantly surprised would be an understatement.

I lied constantly. Not malicious lies, exactly. Lies designed to help me fit in. Designed to mask the reality of my life, and replace it with what I thought would be acceptable to others.

My most frequent lie? When asked “What’re you up to this weekend?” I’d reply, “Hanging out with some friends on Friday, hiking on Saturday, probably a BBQ on Sunday.”

The honest response would’ve been, “Swinging by the liquor store on my way home then playing video games and drinking until Monday rolls around.”

I couldn’t face the shame and potential judgment of admitting that I wasn’t living the life I thought I was supposed to live, so I made one up. I convinced others I was happy, even convinced myself at times. But in doing that I was completely abandoning myself, spending my energy deceiving and avoiding instead of admitting where I was struggling and figuring out how to move forward.

I was certain the only way to maintain my tenuous place in society was through convincing others I was doing great. 

Only when I finally began telling the truth – that my life was a bit of dumpster fire – did things start getting better.

In July of this year I started publicly sharing my writing about my life on the internet. The dark, messy, complicated stuff. The stuff that eight years ago I was not even admitting to myself, let alone sharing with those close to me. Writing for my friends, family, and a growing number of strangers makes me feel like I’ve won a life-long battle. I finally know that I’m worthy, that I belong, that my messy reality and history can be welcomed instead of hidden behind a wall of shame.

All of that is excellent, and would be more than enough reason to keep writing. But four months and fourteen posts in, I’ve stumbled into a completely unexpected benefit. Sharing who I truly am – my struggles, strengths, hard-won knowledge and weaknesses – has made me, in the eyes of others, more approachable, more human, and perhaps even more safe.

I have a hard time conveying how pleasantly baffled and delighted I am by this discovery. I spent nearly my entire life convinced I was an alien living amongst humans, and doing all I could to disguise myself and hide my true nature. Now I’ve finally started sharing my messy, flawed, relentlessly true reality, and not only have I not been outcast, but I feel more connected, more human, more like I belong than ever.

My posts have become the kindling for the kind of deep conversations and even reconciliations that have been years in the making. With friends I’ve fallen out of touch with, family I’ve had a hard time connecting with, or just a deepening of connection with those I’m already close to. We might start talking about my struggle with addiction, which leads to a reveal about a close friend or even a personal struggle with something similar. A curiosity about my experiences with EMDR becomes a wider discussion around the pros and cons of therapy, and how to best go about finding the right therapist. I have dozens of examples like this, all of which have brought me into a deeper connection with those in my life.

Why does this work? A few conjectures:

• Every single one of us has parts that we hide away from the world, due to shame or fright or just not knowing how they might be received. In exposing all the ways I worry I’m unfit for the world, I make others feel safe to bring their own parts forth.

• My writing is focused on my experiences. I’m revealing my truths and putting them out there, along with the lessons I’ve learned and tools I’ve found handy. I’m not placing blame, telling you why you’re wrong, or doing anything aside from recounting my own stories.

• I’m casting a wide net. Not everyone who reads it feels resonance with me, or a desire to reach out and connect. Those who do, do it on their own timeline. There is no pressure. I’m not sitting at the Thanksgiving dinner table monopolizing the conversation with my stories and demanding everyone connect with me.

• I’m lucky. I have the privilege of being at a point in my life where I have a lot of existing friends and family who are interested in deeper connections. Unlike many people, I am risking very little by revealing my truths. I would not recommend this approach to say a kid in middle school, where any shred of difference often means potential bullying.

So I’ll continue to write vulnerable, messy, and deeply true stories about myself and share them with the world. It’s scary, hard, and undeniably, delightfully, worth it.

Resources

In August, I wrote a different take on the power of sharing my true self with the world.

Thanks for reading! Writing these pieces often feels like I’m pulling teeth, with the teeth being little vulnerable parts of me that really rather stay hidden. It’s worth it, but if you want to help, I quite enjoy that little dopamine hit I get every time someone clicks the ♥ button or subscribes. Much appreciated.