The Unveiling: Trading My Shield for My True North
As a strong, independent woman, I’ve spent the better part of my life believing that control was the ultimate superpower. I’m talking about that deep-seated, white-knuckle need to manage every outcome, every perception. Admitting my desire for that control—even to myself—was a vulnerability I didn't dare touch. For me, "vulnerability" was never in the cards. It felt like a four-letter word: weakness.
But now, at 54, I’m finding the courage to set down the shield.
The Presentation Trap: Trading Authenticity for Armor
The foundation of my defense mechanism was the power of presentation.
Despite a complicated relationship with my father, the one lesson I truly absorbed was this concept of presenting yourself impeccably. He commanded a room with strong, clear words and a polished appearance. I grabbed hold of this: if I could present myself flawlessly, I felt empowered. It was the ultimate magic trick: no matter the internal chaos—the fear, the insecurity, the messy feelings—I could wrap it all up in a neat, impressive package, and the people around me would be none the wiser.
This presentation became my shield. I never just put on clothes; I selected ensembles appropriate for every event, changing in the car if necessary. My professionalism, my appearance, my meticulously curated life—this was my buffer from pain, my padding against negative judgment. It beautifully soothed the perfectionist in me, keeping my true self safely out of sight.
Grit Versus Courage: The Karaoke Confession
The idea of truly being seen is where the shield does its best work.
Honestly, even the word vulnerability feels cringey. It seemed to grate on my long-held concept of courage and wear it away. As the always "I got it girl," I had plenty of grit and unshakeable defiance—a stubbornness to push through obstacles. But that was a doing kind of courage, not a being kind of courage.
For example: I love to sing. I’ll belt out 80s tunes in the car, and I’ve sung for crowds. But do you think I have ever participated in karaoke? Nope. The idea of being in the spotlight, singing for all to see and HEAR, is mortifying. Singing is so personal, and I want so badly to not suck that I haven't yet had the courage to put that part of myself on public display. The exposure feels riskier than any professional challenge I’ve ever faced.
The Barrier to Love: Silent Affection
My shield wasn't just about protecting me from criticism; it was also a barrier to love.
I showed my love best in thoughtful gifts. Those tangible items felt safe. But using actual words to articulate my true feelings—to say, "I love you," or "I need you"—was a serious vulnerability I rarely afforded anyone. My husband can certainly attest to my former inability to share my affection through words. The right words would escape me, and the opportunity would often pass in silence.
I held onto the false sense of value derived from my offerings and my fierce independence. This self-reliance felt like strength, but it was actually a wall that blocked emotional intimacy. Looking back, I wish I had encouraged more, loved more openly, and simply allowed love in. Because a shield, while it keeps pain out, also prevents connection from getting in.
The Unconditional Gaze: Finding Love in God
The journey toward releasing my shield has become deeply connected to my reliance on God.
If I am constantly trying to hide my flaws, my mess, my chaos from the world, how could I ever stand before God? The beautiful truth is, there is no hiding anything from God. He sees my faults and my chaos, and yet, His love remains.
This discovery of His unconditional love for me, faults and all, forced me to examine my own heart—the heart of the matter. My fear of human judgment seemed absurd when contrasted with a divine love that accepts me completely. Being constantly aware of where my heart is at in any given situation helps me keep my priorities and values at the forefront. When the shield drops, grounding the authentic self in faith makes the exposure less terrifying.
The Freedom of Limited Time: What's the Worst That Can Happen?
As a full-time RVer, I have a literal advantage in practicing vulnerability. The people I see face-to-face are often around for such a limited amount of time that if I say or do something I think is stupid, I can rest assured that after a week or two, I'll probably never see that person again.
But that concept can hold true even in our permanent circles. Our coworkers are only in our lives for a season—not our whole life. And I ask myself now, and I ask you: What's the worst that can happen?
What if we found a way to articulate our authentic voice in a way that didn't put people on guard? What if we were able to share our ideals with our peers constructively? Or better yet: what if the words of the people we care about didn't hurt us, because we were so steadfast in our resolve that we could hear and respect the ideals of others without letting them dismantle our core self?
Stepping Out of the Safe Room: A Timeline to Freedom
Vulnerability is not about being susceptible to harm; it is a courageous choice to be transparent about one’s true feelings. It is the ultimate act of courage—a willingness to risk being seen without the armor.
One powerful technique I use to build this courage is the "timeline" session I learned in hypnosis therapy. I visualize my memories as a timeline ahead of me, pick up a "pain point," and ask myself: "What did I learn from this experience?" By extracting the lesson, I integrate the experience into my strength, rather than letting it remain a source of fear.
This journey to finding my True North Self in solitude is about allowing that fragile, imperfect self I’ve been hiding to finally take the stage. It is the unveiling, and the true work of courage is just beginning.
Your Move: Steps to Embrace Vulnerability
If you’re ready to set down your shield, remember these steps:
Cultivate Self-Compassion: Treat yourself with the same love and kindness you would offer a close friend.
Examine Your Heart: Ask yourself, "What are my true motivations and values in this moment?"
Use the Timeline Technique: Look at an old "pain point" and ask yourself, "What did I learn from this experience?"
Ask the Question: When facing a moment of fear, ask: "What's the worst that can happen?"
Take Small, Courageous Steps: Practice vulnerability by taking minor risks, like sharing a true feeling with a trusted person.
What is one small act of emotional honesty you can commit to today to begin the unveiling of your True North Self?
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