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I used to think vulnerability was for people who wore floaty cotton kurtas, journaled with fountain pens, and cried at poetry slams. Meanwhile, I was the strong, stoic type, brave enough to carry everyone’s problems, stoic enough to stuff mine down like overpacked luggage.
Until, of course, I realised that luggage eventually bursts open in the middle of the airport conveyor belt, and there you are, with your metaphorical chaddis flung out for public viewing.
So, in an uncharacteristic move, I tried being vulnerable. I told a friend, “I’m not okay.” And shockingly, she didn’t run away. She just nodded and said, “Me neither.” That tiny exchange was more liberating than any self-help book. It turns out that vulnerability is less about baring your soul to the world and more about admitting you’re not Google Maps; you don’t always know the way.
Of course, I don’t romanticise it entirely. Vulnerability is risky. You might pour your heart out and get ghosted faster than your Ola cab during surge pricing. Or worse, you get hit with that classic “stay strong” pep talk, which, honestly, is just a polite way of saying “please stop crying, I’m uncomfortable.”
But you also realise the alternative, pretending to be a human robot, only leaves you lonely and weirdly sweaty at social gatherings.
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The real freedom lies in dropping the performance. When I stopped trying to be Miss Ironlady, I started breathing easier. I stopped rehearsing replies in my head. I stopped editing my WhatsApp messages 73 times before hitting send. I started saying “I don’t know” instead of nodding like an Indian uncle at a wedding buffet.
And the funniest part? People like me more when I’m messy, confused, and slightly falling apart. Apparently, humans connect with humans, not with mannequins wearing emotional bulletproof vests. Who knew?
So yes, vulnerability sets me free. Not in a Bollywood “run through mustard fields” way, but in a smaller, more practical way: my anxiety has fewer places to hide, my relationships feel real, and my brain no longer runs on 24×7 buffering mode.
Being vulnerable hasn’t made me weaker; instead, it has made me honest. And honestly? I’d rather be an awkward human than a perfect robot any day.
Sources: Blogger’s own opinion
Find the blogger: Katyayani Joshi
This post is tagged under: vulnerability, self growth, emotional health, mental health awareness, authentic living, personal blog, slice of life, self love, emotional wellness, being human, honesty matters, indian blogger, relatable content, life lessons, self reflection, personal growth journey, imperfectly perfect, humour blog, emotional intelligence, authenticity
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