Vulnerability: Where the Light Enters You
- tbarghamadi13
- Sep 20
- 11 min read
September 20, 2025
The Courage of Vulnerability
“Vulnerability is not weakness, but our greatest measure of courage.” – Brené Brown
In Latin, vulnerability translates to “the capacity to be harmed.”
The heart, like the seed, can tolerate being broken open. Something blooms during that transformation.
To guard our hearts is to avoid vulnerability. But anxious clinging and avoidant withdrawing are two sides of the same coin. Both strategies rob us of a chance to feel deeply and connect—with ourselves and with others. True intimacy asks us to risk being seen, to choose courage over defense, and to let vulnerability lead.
When Rumi says, “Your task is not to seek for love, but merely to seek and find all the barriers within yourself that you have built against it.” To me, Rumi’s quote indicates that truly- we need to connect with ourselves deeply, engage with life meaningfully, as a prerequisite for connecting deeply with others.
As Yalom notes in Existential Psychotherapy, “Love is not a specific encounter but an attitude” (p. 377). True intimacy is less about finding the perfect partner and more about cultivating an openness to see, accept, and engage—with ourselves and others—with courage.
Guarded Hearts & Outdated Tools
When we live with a guarded heart, we might believe we are protecting ourselves—but in reality, we are avoiding life.
Fear and control start to take over. Deep down, we yearn for closeness, but not knowing how else to achieve it, we hide. We avoid. Or we try to control. We expect perfection.
These are outdated tools. They cannot bring us the intimacy we long for.
Notice where your vulnerability is getting lost—where it transforms into avoidance, anxiety, hiding, or clinging.
In reality, we are each unique, and therefore there are infinite ways in which anxious and avoidant tendencies can show up.
In the example of two people in a relationship- that is two people with their own attachment histories, trauma histories, among other factors. All of those factors will interact in complex ways. As Carl Jung says, “The meeting of two personalities is like the contact of two chemical substances: if there is any reaction, both are transformed.”
This is a reason why we need to examine the tools we use to interact in relationships. If we come in with control rather than curiosity and openness, the end result will not become intimacy. There will be power struggle rather than mutual growth and closeness.
Like the seed which yearns to grow, we must allow ourselves to break open.
Being Seen and Misunderstood
Vulnerability is the capacity to let yourself be seen truly. All of you.
Not the parts you show on the first date, or even first year of a relationship. The interior of who you are, who you’ve been. Your fears, your wishes, your dreams, your greatest ambitions. The underlying narratives that have been at play since childhood. The meanings you have made, and the meanings you make today. The meanings you hope to make one day.
But that comes with risk—the possibility of being misperceived, misunderstood.
The paradox is this: to be understood, we must be willing to be misunderstood. That’s a step toward deeper understanding. Sometimes, it’s the first step.
Think about this, there is a basket of fruit sitting in between you and someone else. When you each look at that basket- do you see it the same way? Or do you see it at different angles? With different lighting? Do you each prefer the same fruits in the basket? Even if you do, let’s say you both love cherries—there are tart black cherries and then there are Rainier cherries. And so many other types of cherries & so many angles you could see them from. Inevitably, even in this simple example- you will not fully understand each other & see things differently.
And if this is with a basket of fruit, what do we think will be the case when we are trying to understand complex human beings. With decades of life?
The antidote to misunderstanding is compassion and empathy. When we are open to patient conversations, when we make space for multiple truths instead of clinging to right versus wrong, when we remember the love we hold for the other person—transformation can happen.
In the book Existential Psychotherapy, Irvin Yalom writes, “Compassion and its twin, empathy, require a certain degree of equilibrium; they cannot be constructed on panic.” (Irvin Yalom, Existential Psychotherapy, p. 398).That means we must regulate, channel calm, and lean into curiosity. We must step into dialogue not with the intention to be right or win, but to connect, to understand, and to lean into our humanity.
Societal messaging and childhood experiences sometimes teach us that vulnerability is weak. That we have to “win” arguments. But is that really how we want to approach connection? With a winner and a loser? What gets lost in that dynamic? Is it worth it to be the “lone winner” who prevailed over the “loser”? The person who is “correct” and the person who is “incorrect”?
This “us vs them” mentality is evolutionarily sound in some ways, but I would posit that we are not going into relationships to win—but rather to connect. To create a safe space to land. To learn and grow together in this world.
The Limits of Intimacy
At the same time, intimacy has limits.
In Existential Psychotherapy, Yalom writes: “Patients who grow in psychotherapy learn not only the rewards of intimacy, but also its limits: they learn what they cannot get from others.” (Irvin Yalom, Existential Psychotherapy, p. 397).
As adults, it is our responsibility to reflect on and meet our own emotional needs. We cannot enter relationships expecting someone else to carry them for us. True intimacy is possible when both people are doing the internal work. Otherwise, “the relationship is forged out of survival, not growth” (Irvin Yalom, Existential Psychotherapy, p. 393).
I would say that societally, intimacy is not often discussed this way- at least in my experience.
I remember reading fairytales as a little girl, and also watching all of my favorite Disney princesses be whisked up by their prince. And they would live happily ever after. What an enchanting idea.
However, this actually robs us of being equals in a relationship. This dynamic leans more parent-child than it does partner-partner. A person who will meet all of our needs and put us first & a person who gets to just be saved.
There are other lessons we can learn from fairytales that are more healthy. For instance, the hope that these characters hold in their hearts despite their tragic circumstances. Hope is part of what makes fairytales so beautiful. Hope, mixed in with reflection, action, and vulnerability, can create a beautiful relationships.
When we have had a lifetime of guarding our hearts, this is not an easy feat. I know in my personal experience, it has been perhaps the most difficult part of my healing. A lifetime of learning how to most efficiently protect my heart and compartmentalize my problems did not lend itself to opening up and being vulnerable. Letting others in authentically.
However, as Jillian Tureki says, “many people tell me that when they’re single, they feel confident, secure, ‘healed’. But when they enter a relationship, all their old patterns resurface. That’s because relationships reflect back to us our relationship with ourselves. They challenge us to communicate better, set boundaries, and be more vulnerable. A relationship is not where we go to avoid ourselves. It’s where we go to confront ourselves and grow. A relationship is a classroom.”
Yalom puts it even more starkly: “The tragic irony is that those who desperately need the comfort and pleasure of an authentic relationship are the very ones least able to form such a relationship.” What he means is that the very patterns we develop in search of connection—clinging, avoiding, controlling, withdrawing—often sabotage the intimacy we crave (Irvin Yalom, Existential Psychotherapy, p. 393).
Pia Mellody, in her book, Facing Love Addiction, calls this dynamic the “love addict” and the “love avoidant.”
A love addict is someone who seeks out relationships to have their needs met externally. They may over-give, over-cling, or try to control another person to feel safe and loved. Love addicts often want this Prince Charming figure to come into their lives, give them love, and make them feel okay. Love addicts unknowingly see love as codependence and enmeshment.
A love avoidant, on the other hand, withdraws or distances themselves to avoid being hurt or overwhelmed. Both patterns stem from unresolved wounds, often rooted in childhood experiences of neglect, enmeshment, or inconsistency.
These roles can trap us in cycles of longing and disappointment. The love addict may feel desperate for connection but constantly feel unsatisfied, while the avoidant partner may crave intimacy but sabotage it through fear or withdrawal.
Vulnerability—the courage to face our feelings, set boundaries, and communicate openly—is the bridge that can break these cycles.
True intimacy requires both partners to do the internal work: to understand their own needs, to face their wounds, and to show up fully—not from a place of craving or fear, but from a place of self-awareness and care. Only then can love become a space for growth rather than survival.
Patterns & Narratives
Love Addict: Common Anxious Underlying Narratives:
If they pull away, it means I am not enough
They can save me from feeling this emptiness
If I don’t give them all of me, they won’t stay
I can’t let them see the ugly parts of me
If I let go, I’ll be alone forever
I’ll bend myself into what they want so they’ll love me (think Taylor Swift’s song, mirrorball)
A passage from Pia’s book, on the LOVE ADDICT:
“The irony is that while Love Addicts want to avoid being left and be connected to someone in a secure way, the close, demanding connection they try to establish is actually enmeshment rather than real healthy intimacy—which they also fear, at least unconsciously. This denied fear also comes from the childhood experience of either physical or emotional abandonment or both. They didn’t get enough intimacy from their caregivers to learn what healthy closeness feels like. So in adulthood, while Love Addicts often think they are intimate and are seeking an intimate relationship, they are in fact frightened by offers of healthy intimacy because they don’t know what to do. When they reach a certain level of closeness, they often panic and do something to create distance between themselves and their partners again. These two fears—of abandonment and intimacy—bring up the agonizing and self-defeating dilemma of the Love Addict. They consciously want intimacy but cannot tolerate healthy closeness, often unconsciously choosing partners who reflect this same dynamic.” (Pia Mellody, Facing Love Addiction p.11)
Love Avoidant: Common Avoidant Underlying Narratives:
I don’t need anyone
If they get too close, I will lose myself
They will just disappoint me just like everyone else has
If I let them in, I could get hurt. I can’t risk that
I am better off alone than dealing with someone else’s drama
‘All men are trash’ or ‘All women are manipulative’
A paraphrased passage from Pia’s book on LOVE AVOIDANT:
“A Love Avoidant tends to withdraw or distance themselves when intimacy grows too close. While they may consciously desire connection, they unconsciously fear losing their independence, being engulfed, or being exposed. This fear often traces back to childhood experiences of emotional neglect, inconsistent care, or enmeshment, which left them unsure how to navigate closeness safely. In adulthood, they may keep partners at arm’s length, create emotional walls, or prioritize self-protection over vulnerability. When intimacy deepens, they often pull away, shut down, or focus on perceived flaws in the relationship, unintentionally creating the very distance they fear. These two drives—wanting connection but fearing closeness—create the love avoidant’s recurring tension and self-defeating patterns. They consciously wish for intimacy but often unconsciously choose dynamics or partners that allow them to maintain safety through distance, reflecting their own unresolved attachment wounds. (Pia Mellody, Facing Love Addiction p. 39)
I challenge you to notice your narratives.
When you’re triggered—whether in moments of anger, withdrawal, or feeling crushed by isolation or loneliness—what story are you telling yourself?
Are your patterns leaning toward anxious intensity, avoidant distance, or a tangled mix of both (disorganized)? Sit with them. Name them. Feel them. Do you know the parts of you that hold these patterns? Awareness is the first step toward choosing a different way to show up.
Resilience and Regulation
Vulnerability requires resilience.
Think of sourdough bread. In its early stages, you stretch and fold the dough every hour, beating it back down on itself. This builds resilience in the bread, forming the structure that will become its crust.
Humans are not that different. Sitting with the pain of existential isolation is uncomfortable, but it builds resilience that makes deeper existential work possible.
Vulnerability also requires regulation.
It means noticing when you are triggered and not blaming the other person for it. It’s taking radical responsibility.
As Jean Paul Sartre says, “Man is condemned to be free; because once thrown into the world, he is responsible for everything he does.”
It means owning your triggers, being patient with yourself, and seeing the larger narratives at play.
It is a lot easier to cast blame. It’s a lot more effortful to recognize that your triggers are your responsibility.
Like the buttons on an elevator, partners can click them. But they didn’t create those buttons. Those buttons were formed years ago.
As the common adage goes, “your triggers are your greatest teachers. They show you where you are unhealed.” If we can take radical responsibility here and look deeper within, our relationships can become more stable, responsible, intimate, and a vessel for growth.
Wounds, Triggers, and Healing
When we’re triggered, it’s helpful to pause and ask: “What story am I telling myself about what happened?”
Is it really about this moment, or is it an old theme surfacing—something from childhood, or from past relationships?
When we recognize that, we can avoid projecting onto others and instead notice our role and the wound showing itself to us.
As Rumi says, “The wound is where the light enters you.”
Triggers happen all the time in relationships. But a trigger is a portal. When you’re triggered, you are no longer in the present. You may be experiencing life through the eyes of the child who was not seen. Knowing this allows you to regulate and return to the present moment.
Your psychology & physiology will thank you for working on this. Because toxic patterns don’t just affect your emotions; they can get stuck in your body, impacting your physical and mental health. The mind body connection is scientifically backed.
Mortality and Living Fully
Vulnerability doesn’t just show up in relationships—it shows up in life itself.
The awareness of mortality, of the impermanence of everything we love, is one of the deepest forms of vulnerability we can face.
We may fear the death of our loved ones. We may fear our own. We worry about what could be lost, what might never be the same again. And yet, this fear is also a teacher.
Pia Mellody writes about the importance of facing our feelings rather than numbing them.
Avoidance may feel like it protects us, but it cuts us off from truly living. Grief, like vulnerability, asks us to stay present with discomfort. To feel the ache of loss, to feel the beauty of love, to feel fully human. When we allow ourselves to grieve, we are practicing courage.
Living fully doesn’t mean ignoring the fragility of life. It means leaning into it. Each day, each moment, is precious because we don’t know what will be taken from us or when.
This isn’t meant to be morbid; it’s meant to wake us up. When we love fully, when we engage with the people we care about deeply, we are vulnerable—but also profoundly alive.
We can use this awareness to guide how we live: choosing presence over distraction, empathy over judgment, courage over avoidance. Owning our triggers. Responding rather than reacting.
The impermanence of life reminds us that our capacity to connect, to show up, to love, and to be seen is fleeting—and therefore sacred.
Vulnerability in the face of mortality is a call to savor the moments we have. It’s a call to say what needs to be said, to forgive, to embrace, to mourn, and to celebrate.
Every day we live fully is a day we honor the precious human Heart. Soul. Spirit. Whatever word resonates with you.
In Essence: The Bloom of Vulnerability
One last note before finishing this blog: although I’m talking mostly about romantic relationships here, these ideas can apply to all kinds of meaningful connections. And just so we’re clear—this assumes relationships that are safe and not abusive. This is about learning to be close, not about excusing harm.
At its core, vulnerability is the courage to bloom—like a seed breaking open or dough forming its resilient crust.
It asks us to notice our patterns, to own our triggers, and to sit with discomfort rather than avoid it.
Vulnerability asks us to enter relationships not to be saved, but to connect authentically, with compassion and empathy, while honoring the limits of what others can give.
It reminds us that life is fleeting and fragile, and that grief, loss, and mortality are teachers in how fully we can love, feel, and engage.
To be vulnerable is to face ourselves, lean into trust, and embrace the messy, beautiful, complicated experience of being human.
It is how we grow, how we connect, and how, ultimately, we bloom.
Thank you for reading this vulnerable post.
With warmth,
Tara ✨
