Worthiness And The Courage To Be Vulnerable

How many times have I thought, "I'm not good enough," "I'm not talented enough," "I'm not smart enough," "I'm not pretty enough," "I'm just not enough"? How many times have you thought those same things? Since I've been in college it seems like those thoughts shout louder and louder all the time, they start standing on crates with giant megaphones, chanting at the top of their lungs, so that the good thoughts get lost in the cacophony of my constant self-degradation.  I feel broken here, not understanding why I can't hold onto the happy things, why I don't feel deep connections, don't feel passionate. I feel worthless, embarrassed, ashamed. I try to numb those feelings, ignore them, tuck them away somewhere where they can't get to me. I try to be strong, to push away situations that make me feel vulnerable, push away relationships that might leave me hurting in the end.

It's time to rip the crates out from under those feelings of worthlessness and make some changes. 

In class last week we watched one of the TEDx talks, a lecture by Brené Brown, a research professor at the University of Houston Graduate College of Social Work. Her work on the ideas of connection, love, and worthiness highlighted some of my own personal struggles and realizations. For instance, she notes that many of us feel an excruciating vulnerability in life, we struggle with worthiness, and we struggle with feelings of love and belonging. What makes us so different from those who don't struggle? According to Brown, the main difference is those who feel a strong sense of worthiness simply believe they're worthy of love and belonging. The fear that we're not worthy is what gets in our way. We have to have the courage to be imperfect, we have to have compassion, to be kind to ourselves first and then to others, and to let go of who we think we should be and be willing to be who we are. We have to embrace vulnerability, it's necessary. We have to be willing to say "I love you" first, to do something where there are no guarantees, to invest in a relationship that may or may not work out. It's fundamental.

Through her own struggles with her research and with her own feelings, Brown came to realize that although vulnerability is at the core of shame and fear and our struggle for worthiness, it is also the birthplace of joy, of creativity, of belonging, and of love. So often we numb vulnerability, but when we do this we end up numbing everything. You cannot selectively numb, when we numb fear and shame we numb joy and gratitude as well. Instead, we have to let ourselves be seen, deeply seen, vulnerably seen. We have to love with our whole hearts even though there are no guarantees. We have to practice gratitude and joy in those moments of terror when we're wondering, "Can I love you this much?", "Can I believe in this this passionately?" We have to say, "You know what, you're imperfect and you're wired for struggle, but you're worthy of love and belonging." And we have to, most of all...

Believe we're enough.

When all I could hear were the reverberating chants of my negative thoughts I did everything in my power to shut them out, to hide from them, to numb my senses. Like Brown, I felt like it was a constant battle, a constant street fight, as she says. I wasn't able to muffle the sounds of those megaphones without also shutting out the whispers of confidence, though, so there was no hope of change. As soon as I accepted that it’s ok to feel vulnerable, however, as soon as I made some big leaps in my school life and my personal life, went where there are no guarantees, as she might say, I started to feel different, I started to feel like I was worth something again, like I'm good at things, like I'm passionate again. When I stopped numbing myself, my positive thoughts were finally able to take a stand, to yank those crates back from under the feelings of worthlessness and sing out loud. The more I accept myself and my decisions, the more I lean into the discomfort of life, the more I let myself feel vulnerable, the more I also start to feel courageous, to feel a sense of worthiness, to feel compassionate. Opening myself up to the possibility of being brought down again also means I’m opening myself to all the happiness I've been missing out on. Letting myself feel vulnerable, feel unsure, feel scared means letting myself find love, find confidence, and find creativity. I have to stop trying to shut out my negative thoughts, instead I have to open up and let the good thoughts be heard until they can drown out the bad ones. I have to remember that it takes courage to let yourself be vulnerable and that I have what it takes. I am enough. 

Universe Crumbs

Sometimes it seems like the universe leaves you little breadcrumbs of inspiration and hope when you most need them. Little clues that you're on the right path. Lately I've felt like I'd stumbled off that path into some cold, jagged, horrible place where any tiny breadcrumbs were hidden deep in the shadows or gobbled up by grimy little poisonous creatures scurrying at my feet. The only way to save myself was to blow a hole in the side wall and back-track a bit. It was scary, but I've done it and I can already feel the warmth from up ahead and have found my trail of breadcrumbs once again.

Maybe you know what I mean, maybe you don't.

The other day I wandered onto campus wearing a brown button-down with rolled sleeves, a pair of dark comfy jeans, a cute new pair of sandals, and my DG sunglasses that I seem to have acquired from who knows where.  None of this really matters other than to say for one of the first times in a long time I felt cute, confident, happy, and motivated. I had a chai latte in hand thanks to Alex Runde as we both walked over to the Stephen Bissette demo and boy did the day feel good. Stephen, a cartoonist and graphic novel artist, was doing a drawing and inking demo while talking about his own work as well as giving tips on how to get into the field. As I walked in the room and turned the corner I felt a sinking feeling as I realized that even on my tip toes I could hardly see Stephen's face, let alone what he was drawing. Everyone was crowded around in a tight inefficient circle trying to see what he was doing as he spoke. With some craning their necks and others clambering to secure a spot standing on one of the few nearby drawing tables I found a little hole that I could peer through and decided his talk would still be worth the hours of standing and not being able to see. Glad I didn't forfeit my plans because little ray-of-hope-breadcrumb number one came after his first two drawings. As he switched pages he had everyone switch places. Anyone who couldn't see was to move to the front and secure a good spot for themselves and all who had just been able to watch him had to mosey on to the back. It's those little things that can make your whole day and sometimes in some small way reassure you of your life's choices. As if one tiny thing working out means you planned your day well after all instead of wasting your time and you suddenly have life all under control. Silly, but often that's how it feels. Maybe my mood is just easily influenced. So anyway, right up front in perfect eye-line of Stephen Bissette, I let myself get carried away by his talk of finding what you love and doing it no matter what and by his seemingly effortless inking of a dark vampire and a suspicious old man. He talked about how some years things were so good that he could work on all his own projects and then how other years he had to take any job he could find just to pay the rent, but that no matter how it was going he loved what he did and loved to keep it fresh and try new media and work on new material. Hearing his joy and passion seep through into his words was so inspiring. I jotted down a handful of notes and left chuckling, with a glow of excitement.

By that time Alex was long gone so I wandered over to the school library. Since reorganizing my life (you know, blowing a hole in that side wall?) I've been trying to make the most of my time and do things that I usually don't think I have the time for. I browsed the shelves for a while, picking up books on comics, on animation, on design, and then wandered my way back out into the sun. And wouldn't you know it, breadcrumb number two. Sitting out in front of the library is a squeaky old cart covered in VHS tapes with a little sign attached to it that says "Library Give-Away." Pushing a few uninteresting movies out of the way I uncovered a tape of old classic cartoons. And then a documentary on American Cinema. And then another. And another. And...well you get the point. I ended up leaving there with an armful of old VHS on film noir and westerns and other cinema. I guess to some that might not seem like a sign from the universe, but to me...it's like that feeling you get when somebody gives you a big warm smile to show they understand you and your face can't help but smile back. It's like the universe was saying "Hey, because you went for it today, you went to a demo, you got inspired, you wandered through the library...because you did all of those things, here's a little reward and a reminder that this is what you love, this is what you want to do."

Sometimes at Ringling, and in life in general, you can feel as if you're losing yourself, like maybe you never wanted to be in the arts, or do what you're doing, and you can't quite remember how you got in so deep. When it gets like that you just have to find those breadcrumbs again, find those little things in life that remind you to smile and make you feel 'right', even if it means blowing a hole in the side wall of that cave and running with all your might in another direction for a while. Eventually you'll find those crumbs again and they'll lead you back out into the sun.