Brene Brown once said that there is a world of difference between saying “I made a mistake” and “I am a mistake.”
When you speak up and own your mistakes, you invite courage into your life. But more importantly, you invite connection.
When you shut down and belittle yourself, you “dis-courage” both.
Our deepest fears are the surest path to connection.
I recently sat down with my partner and shared with her my deepest fears - you know, the kind that touch the “broken” parts of you, the parts that don’t want to be seen. These were big fears, ones that if I shared them, might crush my relationship.
I held those fears for years, believing that I was somehow protecting myself, as if that was the best way to live a happy, peaceful life.
That was delusional.
What I ended up doing was building a fortress around my heart. Nobody could penetrate that fortress, and I was a prisoner inside it. That is not a path to happiness or peace.
In the days leading up to that moment when I faced my partner and shared my secrets, my mind had two distinctly different voices arguing back and forth, both doing their best to take care of me.
The battle of the voices.
One voice, the one I call Max, constantly reminded me of all the painful consequences I would encounter by honoring my vulnerability.
“She is going to leave you, and you will be alone at age 68. Is that what you want for yourself?”
Thoughts of going to movies and restaurants by myself while envying all the couples around me began to occupy my mind.
Then my other voice chimed in - I call him Ralph.
“You can’t control what your partner does, but you can control yourself. You say you want love, happiness, and peace in your life, but those things aren’t free. You are carrying emotional toxic waste in your soul, and as long as you do, you will suffer, and those around you will suffer.”
After enduring this mental tennis match for years, I came to a startling conclusion.
There is no perfect decision.
But there are good decisions.
Where is the “center of gravity”?
What I finally understood was that I had to come to terms with where the “center of gravity” of my conflict resided. In other words, after weighing all the pros and cons, did the scale tip in favor of being vulnerable or keeping quiet?
I chose vulnerability.
I chose to show up for myself and for my partner. I owed both of us honesty, transparency, and trust.
When the time came, we sat down on our living room couch and faced each other. My heart was racing and my throat was dry. Knowing I would be anxious, I had rehearsed what I needed to say a hundred times. Still, the words were difficult to speak.
Momentum: Starting is always the hardest part.
If you have ever had to move a heavy object on wheels, such as an overloaded grocery cart, you know what momentum is all about. It’s tough at first, but once you get going, it eases up. So it was with me.
My partner listened with rapt attention, asking questions along the way to ensure she was hearing me correctly. With each sentence I spoke, the anxiety began to dissipate. It was as if I had this massive steam boiler inside of me, and I was turning a valve, releasing the pressure.
When I was finished, I was exhausted. Too exhausted to worry about my partner’s response. In the end, I had risen to the occasion and spoken my truth. I had opened my heart as wide as I knew how.
My partner thanked me for my courage and for opening up to her. She teared up, leaned over, and hugged me.
She did not leave me (screw you, Max).
Courage does not guarantee instant bliss.
We didn’t end up dancing through the tulips, no, that’s not what happened. Courage doesn’t guarantee that instant bliss will materialize.
We both agreed that we needed to work with a couples therapist to improve our communication and the depth of our intimacy. I was delighted to take charge of finding that person and beginning our journey to a more peaceful, loving, and happy place.
It is impossible to convey in a few hundred words how daunting showing up with a vulnerable heart was. What tipped the scale in favor of sitting down with my partner and doing that was seeing myself as being worthy.
I was not broken.
I had made mistakes, but I was not a mistake.
Courage never appears alone.
Courage never appears alone; it is always accompanied by something else. Love, connection, friendship, and integrity - these all walk alongside courage.
Soldiers don’t walk into battle solely because they are courageous. They put their lives on the line because of the bonds they have with the men and women around them and because of the love they have for their country. Courage is the manifestation of all those things.
If you have built a fortress around your heart, I invite you to ponder this question:
“If I die inside this fortress, will I be alone?”
If the answer is yes, then I know how to dismantle the walls of that fortress, brick by brick.
Open yourself up to someone with compassionate ears and share your humanity. Share your heart. Share your love.
Share you.
Have you built a fortress around your heart? Has someone you care about built one? Were you able to tear it down? I would be honored to read your story. Please share what you can in the comments below.
The Courageous Human is dedicated to promoting a kinder and more connected world for everyone. If you know of anyone who would benefit from reading my weekly letter, please share it.