Savannah H.
Photography by Morgan McCullen
If you’re reading this… it’s okay to be vulnerable.
For so many years I was afraid of opening up about my struggles, my thoughts, and my anxieties. I never wanted to be viewed as “weak.” I never wanted to be labeled as having a “mental illness.” I never wanted anyone to see me as anything but “perfect.”
For most of my life, I have been told I seem to have it all together, and people ask how I do it. I always laugh and brush off the compliment. I always feel a sense of pride for being able to fake it so well that people truly believe that I have anything altogether when it could not be further from the truth.
That all changed for me in 2020 when COVID hit. Like many, I had to address a lot of my hidden issues during a lockdown. There was nothing else to do but to think and self-reflect. From that experience came many tears, anxious nights, and eventually a breakdown. This made me realize I needed to start therapy to address the root of my issues; I needed to talk about the issues I have bottled up for years, and I needed to work on healing who I once was, in order to move forward. In a nutshell, I needed to be vulnerable. I hated the idea of that.
For background information, I grew up in a small town in New Jersey. From the age of seven, my dad raised my six older siblings and me as a single parent. My biological mom suffers from alcoholism, substance abuse, and a whole slew of issues that impacted not only my childhood but even my present life. That in itself has caused my issues with abandonment and trust, to name a few. But the poor experiences didn’t stop there. I was bullied heavily for my weight from the young age of eight and that led to a lot of issues with self-esteem and confidence. What many people fail to realize is that these adolescent experiences truly do shape who you are in young adulthood and how you approach life. In high school, at the brink of developing my own sense of self, I realized how poor my mental health was, but I did not want to talk to anybody about it. I had journals filled with pages of shame for how I felt about myself, I had post-it notes on my mirrors to remind myself that it gets better, even when I was convinced it wouldn’t. It is heartbreaking to look back on. I didn’t have to be struggling in silence but I convinced myself that I had to. When I went to college, 700 miles away in Greenville, S.C., I struggled to adapt at first. I never drank or went to parties in high school, and I was not used to not being with my family all the time and having so much free time to do what I wanted to. It was weird and I definitely struggled to adapt. I had no idea who I was, what I valued, how to pick friends, or how to find who I really was. But of course, this was nowhere to be seen on social media. All you would see was me having fun with friends that knew nothing about me and me achieving in extracurriculars, another outlet for me to mask having to deal with the issues I faced.
Thankfully, due to COVID, I was able to realize the power of being vulnerable and the real strength it takes to open up to others. There is nothing shameful about it.
Now, I have been in therapy for three years; I write mental health articles for others; I am very open about my past life, and I work on discussing the newer struggles that come to the surface. There is still that balance of ensuring that I don’t trauma dump, but also utilizing the tools of journaling, blogging, and allowing people to start vulnerable conversations if they feel they want to have those with me. It’s refreshing and freeing. Just this year, I began to see a psychiatrist to work on deep-rooted issues. From that, I have begun working on managing those issues with a psychiatrist and I truly have seen the benefits of it.
I am everything that old me never wanted to be. I never wanted to be publicly discussing my mental health, my family life, my body issues, or my self-destructive thoughts. Parts of me still get embarrassed or nervous from time to time, but it has proven to be worth it. Being vulnerable and open about my issues has allowed me to be everything I should have always wanted to be: someone who is real, flawed, and embracing it. Someone who is working on herself and not staying stagnant in her growth. Someone who is being vulnerable then also inspires others to do the same, whether they also use a public platform to talk about it or if they just start the work within themselves.
So, if you’re reading this, please know, it’s okay to be vulnerable. It’s okay to own your story and embrace it, no matter what. Life is too short to worry about what others may think of your own vulnerability.
Savannah H., University of South Carolina
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