This past week I started a new job, and this past weekend I moved. There has been a lot of change in a short period of time, a lot of excitement, little sleep, and this constant awareness of how incredibly vulnerable I feel.
Vulnerable because I left a roommate whom I’ve become such good friends with, and now live alone again.
Vulnerable because I’m juggling grad school, an internship, and this new job.
Vulnerable because I might have to ask for help, because I can’t do it all on my own.
I’m really good at putting up this front that I’m handling everything flawlessly, that I’ve got it under control, that I don’t need anyone to help me. But we all need help, and we all worry about doing well at new jobs, and fitting in with co-workers, being accepted, and feeling like we are doing enough.
Accepting that I’m vulnerable, means that I’m accepting that I’m real. I have a pulse, and feelings, and I don’t have it all figured out, not even close.
As Brené Brown says, “Vulnerability is the birthplace of innovation, creativity and change.” So today, as I lay on my couch sore from moving, and write this, I’m going to own my vulnerability. I’m going to own that it’s hard to lean into, but also recognize that it usually produces great things.