Ironically, this might be one of the less “vulnerable” things I’ve published. I’m not really telling the whole messy story of how I came to believe these things; I’m mostly talking about concepts I now hold as truth. But I believe so deeply in the power of vulnerability, weakness, and showing our whole selves that I felt like I had to sit down, write this, and share it. I suppose it’s vulnerable in a different way—sharing my true insights about how I see the world and where I think so many of our struggles come from.

The Radical Strength of Being Weak

People seem to think that showing our weaknesses means we are weak, but in reality, it means we are extremely strong. It takes bravery, courage, and genuine strength to reveal where you’re vulnerable. Real confidence comes from being confident despite not being good at something. When you’re only confident in areas where you excel, that’s not confidence, that’s insecurity wearing a mask.

This false confidence comes from believing you’re unworthy unless you’re strong and perfect. But when you actually love yourself no matter what, when you find yourself worthy and capable regardless of your flaws, then even when you aren’t good at something, it’s okay. You’re okay showing it, admitting it, because your worth isn’t dependent on perpetual strength.

The Paradox of Vulnerability

Loving yourself, truly believing you are worthy no matter what, makes showing weakness easier. And once you really embrace this, it makes you unstoppable. When your worth is unshakable, when you can have all the weaknesses in the world and still know you are strong and capable, you become truly powerful. You do things because you’re passionate and excited, not because your entire being depends on appearing perfect.

Once you can actually show your weaknesses, your ability to grow becomes exponential. You get to try. You get to fail. You get to get up again and keep trying for the things you actually care about. This isn’t weakness at all. Great leaders admit to their weaknesses, it’s what distinguishes the good from the great.

Yet we try so hard to avoid having weaknesses, to avoid showing them, and in doing so, we become even weaker. It reveals that we don’t really believe in ourselves, that we’re afraid, that we don’t find ourselves worthy or capable, yet we think we’re portraying the opposite.

The Emptiness of Avoiding Pain

This connects deeply to how we handle difficult emotions. Everyone tries to avoid sadness and pain, but by avoiding them, we invite something worse: emptiness. The lack of feeling. Living on the surface. Building a shell of protection.

All of this actually blocks you from the very thing you’re trying to achieve. In trying to block out pain, you stunt your emotional life. You don’t let feelings move through you. You avoid what needs to be heard. And you cause yourself more misery in the long run—a blank emptiness, a lack of motivation, happiness, feeling, direction—because you aren’t allowing yourself to feel pain, so you aren’t actually feeling anything at all.

We don’t get to choose what we block out. We either let in everything or we block everything. If you want to experience deep meaning, deep joy, deep connection, deep love, if you want to squeeze every drop from life and seize every moment, then you also have to endure deep pain, deep loneliness, deep sadness, deep fear. It’s only through these experiences that you learn how to be truly connected to yourself.

The Question Worth Asking

Sometimes I really worry. I contemplate: is it worth it? Do I want to go there? But every time I come out the other side, I’m reminded why it is. I’m reminded why I choose to face difficult things, why I let myself feel into the pain, why I believe what I believe, why I gravitate toward depth over comfort.

It’s easy to forget. It’s easy to want to avoid the harder path. But then I’m left feeling empty, longing, like I’ve betrayed myself—betrayed the deepest and most meaningful life I could live, betrayed my potential, betrayed what I know in my heart to be the right path, the path that makes me whole, radiant, and fulfilled.

Breaking Down to Break Through

There’s something similar with psychedelic therapy. People fear mushrooms because they can cause “breakdowns” or “bad trips.” But those difficult experiences aren’t actually bad—they’re true feelings, true things trapped inside that need to come out.

People think therapeutic journeys should just make you better, but before you get better, you often have to break down. You’re doing a deep dive into your own subconscious, full of everything trapped under the surface. Obviously that won’t be easy. But the only way to get over things is to bring them up and out. Otherwise, they’re subconsciously running your life. Just like emotions, just like weaknesses, the only way out is through.

The Wisdom of Seasons

This might seem unrelated, but bear with me: weather. I’m from Seattle, where we have all four seasons. Many people complain about it being “cold” or “rainy and gloomy,” but I’ve always loved Seattle weather more than anywhere else I’ve been. I’ve always felt empty in places that are perpetually sunny with no seasons.

That emptiness mirrors what I feel when I’m trying to be happy without any sadness. You aren’t experiencing the whole spectrum. The gloom, the cold, the rain—this is earth, this is the world, this is nature. We need to experience it all to feel deeply connected, to also appreciate the sun and warmth.

I can’t love constant sun and warmth. It feels like emptiness, like something essential is missing. We need the rain for nature to bloom. We need different experiences, different moods, different lessons. This is what makes us more deeply connected to everything.

The Beautiful Whole

It’s all connected. People see these things—vulnerability, sadness, difficult weather, challenging experiences—as “bad, weak, things to be avoided.” But they’re actually the opposite. They’re what make life beautiful. They’re what allow us to appreciate everything. We need seasons to appreciate the sun. We need sadness to appreciate happiness. We need to show our weaknesses to actually become strong.

I’m saying all of this not because I’m above it, but because I’ve lived through it. I’ve lived through avoiding my emotions. I’ve lived through difficult experiences with mushrooms. I’ve lived through mental health struggles. And every time I’ve chosen to feel rather than flee, to be vulnerable rather than armored, to experience the full spectrum rather than just the comfortable parts, I’ve emerged more whole, more alive, more myself.

The path isn’t about being strong all the time. It’s about being real all the time. And sometimes being real means being weak, being sad, appreciating the cold and dark and gloom. Because in the end, it’s not our strength that connects us, it’s our humanity. And humanity, in all its messy, vulnerable, seasonal glory, includes everything.