Vulnerability: the light that leads us home

I still remember it like it was yesterday… December 2017, and I hadn’t slept well in weeks.

Most nights, I lay awake, staring at the ceiling, my mind racing with thoughts I couldn’t silence. The news had been filled with strange weather events—temperatures in the North Pole rising to an unnatural +20°C, while Texas was freezing at -2°C. It didn’t make sense. It felt like proof that the world was unraveling, and what terrified me most was that no one seemed to care.

I tried to talk about it. I tried to explain my fear, the way it gnawed at my chest and kept me awake. But every time I spoke, I felt like I was screaming into a void. People dismissed my worries, told me not to think too much, to forget about the cycles of Nature. I felt alone with my thoughts, locked inside a storm no one else could see.

Then my heart started acting up.

I would be sitting at work, minding my own business, when suddenly—boom. A hard, erratic thud in my chest. A racing pulse out of nowhere. And then... silence. As if my heart had skipped a beat. It scared me. What if something was really wrong with me? What if my body was trying to tell me something?

So, I went to the doctor.

They ran tests and gave me a 24-hour EKG monitor to wear. I carried it around, waiting for it to capture whatever was happening inside my chest. When I finally returned to get my results, the doctor looked at me and said, “Your heart is fine.”

I should have been relieved. But then he did something unexpected—he paused, looked me in the eye, and asked, “You mentioned having trouble sleeping. What kind of thoughts are keeping you awake?”

I froze. No one had ever asked me that before. Not like that.

Something inside me cracked open. My chest tightened, my throat burned, and before I could stop myself, I was crying. Right there, in a cold doctor’s office, in front of a stranger in a white coat.

He didn’t rush me. He didn’t tell me to calm down or hand me easy answers. He just listened. And then he said something that changed everything:

"You just need a little bit of help. And that’s okay."

I don’t know why those words hit me so hard, but they did.

For the first time, I realized that maybe—just maybe—I wasn’t broken. Maybe I wasn’t beyond saving. Maybe I wasn’t alone.

That day, something shifted.

I decided I wanted to understand myself better. What if I had been a puzzle to myself the whole time? What if that never-ending melancholy was not me, but just a part of me? Why has no one helped me before?

Vulnerability… a scary thing to many.

Vulnerability is often misunderstood. We’re taught to see it as weakness, as something to be avoided. But in reality, vulnerability is the most courageous and rawest thing we can offer—to ourselves, to others, to the world. We offer ourselves as we are.

It’s like opening a window in a dark room that’s been closed for years.

At first, the light is too much. It blinds you. It reveals dust and forgotten things. Maybe you don’t even recognize the room you’ve been living in.

But over time, as your eyes adjust, you begin to see clearly.

You notice the colors on the walls. You see the furniture you never really paid attention to before. You start understanding the space you’ve been in all along.

Vulnerability is that first step toward knowing yourself. It’s what allows us to heal.

Why Vulnerability Matters

When we shut down vulnerability, we disconnect—not just from others, but from ourselves.

We suppress emotions instead of facing them. We tell ourselves we’re “fine” when we’re not. We numb discomfort instead of asking what it’s trying to tell us.

Over time, this creates distance. Between our minds and our hearts. Between who we are and who we let the world see. Between the love we crave and the walls we build to keep it out.

A study published in Springer’s Well-Being and Social Connectedness found that the depth of our social connections has a profound impact on mental health. Vulnerability plays a crucial role in this—it fosters trust, deepens relationships, and helps us feel truly seen.

Another study, Social Connection Interventions and Depression in Young Adults, suggests that building meaningful emotional connections—rather than just surface-level interactions—can significantly reduce depressive symptoms.

Yet, in a world that rewards self-sufficiency and “having it all together,” many of us have learned to hide the parts of ourselves that need love the most.

How to Start Practicing Vulnerability

So… how do we start practicing vulnerability? If you’ve spent years guarding your emotions, opening up can feel impossible, even scary. But like any skill, vulnerability can be practiced.
Here are three ways to start:

1. Speak Your Truth—Even in Small Ways

You don’t have to spill your deepest secrets all at once. Start small.

If someone asks how you’re doing, resist the urge to say, “I’m fine.” Instead, try something a little more honest:

"I’ve had a rough day, actually."
"I’m feeling overwhelmed right now."
"I don’t know why, but I feel really anxious today."

You’d be surprised how often people will lean in when you let them see you.

2. Journal Like No One’s Watching

One of the safest ways to explore vulnerability is with yourself.

Try this: At the end of the day, grab a notebook and ask yourself one simple question—"What did I feel today?"

Write freely. No filters. No judgment. Just let the words come.

Over time, this practice will help you connect with emotions you may not have even realized you were carrying.

3. Listen to Your Body

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

Our bodies hold onto things our minds try to ignore. A clenched jaw, a racing heart, a tight chest—these are all signals.

Try this mindfulness exercise:

• Sit quietly for a moment. Close your eyes.

• Take a deep breath in, and slowly exhale.

• Bring awareness to your body. Notice where you feel tension.

• Ask yourself, What is this sensation trying to tell me?

Your body is always speaking to you. Learning to listen is an act of self-compassion.

This is the light we need to get back home

That day in the doctor’s office, I learned something life-changing: Healing doesn’t happen in isolation.

We all need help sometimes. We all need spaces where we can take off the mask and just be.

Vulnerability isn’t about oversharing or being weak. It’s about allowing ourselves to be seen.

And in that seeing—in that brave, terrifying, beautiful openness—something incredible happens.

We find connection.
We find understanding.
We find ourselves.

So if you’re tired of carrying the weight alone, know this: You don’t have to.

Open the window. Let the light in.

It’s okay to ask for help.
It’s okay to be human.
It’s okay to be you.

This is an important lesson — start practicing! Bit by bit, everything will change, it will get better.
You are worthy. Always.

By the way… speaking of worth. Have you watched my YouTube video yet? It is as raw and vulnerable as it can get. A woman defying quite some big social standards on female beauty for the sake of inspiration, vulnerability and connection.

The message seems clear to me: You are worthy as you are.

I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoy it making it.

If you would like someone to listen, I am here for you. Get in touch with me over Instagram or send a message. This is what I want to do for others. I want to help you reconnect with your inner world so you finally feel free. Learn to experience, and communicate your truth in a mature, secure, and responsible way. As a trauma survivor myself, I want to provide others with the help I so badly need, for I believe that every single person carries the power to heal themselves and the strength to change their lives. I am here to help.