Let’s talk about something that feels like a double-edged sword—vulnerability.

Not the pretty kind people post in Instagram captions with soft light and deep quotes. I mean the raw, shaky, skin-shedding kind of vulnerability. The kind that makes your voice tremble when you’re trying to say something real. The kind that makes you want to run away, fold your arms, or change the subject.

I’ve been listening to The Power of Vulnerability by Brené Brown, and whew… it’s been confronting me in a way I didn’t expect. Like somebody turned a light on in a room I’ve been avoiding for years.

And I’ll be honest with you—this is not a space I’ve lived in comfortably.

This post is a reflection on my own struggle with vulnerability—how it’s shaped my relationships, what it’s cost me, and how I’m learning to open up, even when it feels terrifying. If you’ve ever been told your feelings are too much or struggled to show the real you, you’re not alone.

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When You’re Strong, But Guarded

I’ve always prided myself on being mentally strong. I can articulate my experiences. I can recount hard things that have happened in my life with sharp clarity and even humor. I can counsel, advise, write, teach, and reflect. But feelings? That’s a different game.

I didn’t just wake up emotionally armored one day. That armor was built through breakups where I felt misunderstood, childhood moments where crying felt unsafe, and friendships that couldn’t hold space for my truth. Somewhere along the way, I learned to be quiet, self-reliant, and “unbothered”—because showing my feelings never felt like a safe option.

But under that silence lived a girl who wanted to be seen, loved, and understood. That guardedness didn’t come from ego—it came from injury. And if that resonates with you, know that your tenderness never made you weak. It made you real.

Telling someone I feel scared? That I’m lonely? That they hurt me? That I need help?

Nope.

Not because I don’t feel those things, but because somewhere along the line, I learned that those truths weren’t safe to share. That those truths made me weak. That someone would use them against me. That love would disappear the moment I showed too much.

And even though I now understand—intellectually—that vulnerability is the birthplace of connection, joy, and authenticity, my heart still acts like it missed the memo.

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I’ve Never Been in Love

Here’s something I never thought I’d say publicly:

I’ve never been in love.

Not because I haven’t dated or been in relationships. I have. But when I look back, what I thought was love was often performance. Me showing up as what I thought I was supposed to be. Me accommodating. Me giving. Me managing emotions. Me offering surface-level openness, but never inviting someone into the deeper chambers of my soul.

Being in love requires being fully vulnerable.

I have never given that to anyone, not even myself.

Because when you’re not used to being vulnerable, those moments feel like emotional seizures. The energy is too big, too fast, too unfamiliar.

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Why We Don’t Trust Vulnerability

A lot of us were never modeled safe vulnerability. We grew up watching the caregivers around us either collapse under the weight of their emotions or shut them down entirely.

We were told:

• “Don’t cry.”
• “Toughen up.”
• “Stop being dramatic.”
• “Handle it yourself.”

And so, we learned to armor up.

Vulnerability became something to hide or control, not honor.

But here’s the problem: You can’t selectively numb emotions.

When you block vulnerability, you also block intimacy. You block joy. You block real connection. You might feel “in control,” but you’re also lonely, resentful, and disconnected—even from yourself.

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Healing Starts with Telling the Truth

Healing from this means telling the truth—first to yourself.

Admitting where you’re closed off.
Admitting that you’re scared.
Admitting that the way you’ve been doing it has kept you safe, but also alone.

This isn’t about beating yourself up for not being more open. It’s about compassionately witnessing your own story and understanding why you’ve been so guarded.

For me, I had to acknowledge that my “strength” was often a defense mechanism. I could do vulnerability in my journal, in my art, in my self-talk—but not in real-time, not with people. Opening up to people scares the hell out of me!

And until I face that, I won’t be able to offer or receive love in the way I know I deserve.

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What Opening Up Actually Looks Like

Opening yourself to vulnerability doesn’t mean spilling your guts to everybody. It doesn’t mean crying on command or telling your trauma story on the first date.

It means practicing emotional truth-telling in safe, consistent ways. It looks like:

• Saying “That hurt my feelings” instead of brushing it off.
• Asking for comfort when you need it instead of pretending you’re fine.
• Telling someone you’re scared of being abandoned instead of overcompensating by being overly independent.
• Letting someone see you cry without apologizing for it.

Vulnerability isn’t just about feeling. It’s about revealing.

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Building a Life Where Vulnerability Feels Safe

You don’t wait for the perfect person or moment to start being vulnerable. You build a life that can hold it.

That starts with you being a safe place for yourself.

Can you sit with your own feelings without judgment?
Can you talk to your inner child with compassion?
Can you own your emotional needs without labeling them as “too much”?

The more we practice self-acceptance, the less we fear other people’s reactions.

And yes, it also means choosing relationships—romantic, platonic, and professional—that honor your truth instead of punishing it. You don’t owe vulnerability to everyone. But you do owe it to yourself to stop hiding from it.

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If You’ve Been Numb or Explosive—You’re Not Alone

If you’re someone who either shuts down or blows up when it comes to expressing emotions, you’re not broken. You’re likely unpracticed.

Vulnerability is a muscle. If you’ve never used it or only used it under duress, of course it feels awkward.

But practice doesn’t make perfect. Practice makes it possible.

Here’s how to start gently:

• Name your feelings in a journal every day. Build emotional vocabulary.
• Practice saying one hard truth a week. Start with someone safe.
• Catch yourself when you’re about to deflect or joke. And choose to stay in the moment instead.
• Validate your inner child. Say: “It’s okay to be scared. It’s okay to feel.”

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The Reward of Vulnerability

Here’s what I believe about vulnerability—even if I haven’t fully lived it yet: it’s not just painful, it’s powerful. I haven’t had that moment yet where I let someone truly see me and was met with compassion instead of judgment. But I want that. I crave that.

I want to experience what it’s like to be fully myself—with all my truth, all my softness, all my needs—and still be loved. Not for what I do, or how well I carry it all, but for who I really am underneath the armor.

I imagine that moment feeling like a soul exhale. A soft landing. A quiet yes from the universe that says, “You’re safe now.”

Even though I’m not there yet, I’m walking toward it. I’m practicing telling the truth, even if my voice shakes. I’m learning to show up without the performance. Because I believe vulnerability is how I’ll start living in alignment with the woman I’m becoming.

And when that moment comes? I know I’ll be ready for it.

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What We All Want: To Be Seen and Loved

At the root of it all, we want the same thing: to be fully seen and fully loved. But…

You can’t experience being loved if you never let yourself be seen.

That means peeling off the performance.
That means letting go of the idea that you have to earn love through perfection or control.
That means opening the door—even if it’s just a crack—to let someone in.

And if that someone disappoints you? You’ll survive. It might sting. But you’ll learn. You’ll get stronger. And next time, you’ll know what you deserve.

Because vulnerability isn’t weakness. It’s wisdom.
It’s choosing to live fully instead of safely.
It’s saying, “I’m here. This is me. Take it or leave it—but I’m not hiding anymore.”

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A Final Word From My Heart to Yours

If no one’s ever told you this:

Your feelings are valid. Your fears are human. And your softness is not a liability.

You don’t have to open up all at once. But you deserve relationships—romantic and otherwise—that make room for your full self. Not just the curated, controlled version.

Start slow. Start scared. But start.

Because real love—real connection—requires vulnerability. Not just from others, but from you.

And when you finally open that door? You’ll realize the thing you were most afraid of is also the thing you were most craving: intimacy, tenderness, and belonging.

Vulnerability may still scare me, but I’ve come to see it as the only way to experience real intimacy, connection, and freedom. It’s not something I’ve mastered—but it is something I’m choosing, little by little, day by day.

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Let’s Grow Together

If this post spoke to something deep in you, let it sit for a while. Journal about it. Cry if you need to. Share it with someone who gets it.

Then, when you’re ready, explore more of my blog posts or sign up for my email notifications. I write about emotional healing, self-worth, and personal power every week. And if you want a tool to help you go even deeper, check out my Single & Whole workbook. It’s not just about relationships—it’s about learning to love your truth in a world that often teaches us to hide it.

Because…

You deserve love that sees you—and that starts with you.

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With love,
LaToya

#SoulFoodSunday | #EmotionalHealing | #VulnerabilityIsStrength | #SingleAndWhole