Intimacy

Intimacy (into-me-see?), secrets, vulnerability, authentic self, invisibility—these topics have been swirling around my circles lately. Distract! That is often my gut reaction. Maybe yours, too—perhaps you have stopped reading already. Have we all been trained to bounce off the surface of each other and avoid deeper discussions? Certainly SoMe-powered communications are training wheels for short, shallow transactions. 

I’ve been reflecting on the fact that it is really such a privilege to have a partner, family, friends that will meet me at the space where we can share our innermost thoughts. I have been also greeted in-kind for sharing deeper thoughts surrounding PTSD and mental health on this blog. There has been a beautiful, slow-but-steady flowering of those thrown seeds—in the form of people reaching out to me to share their struggles. The resulting conversations are some of my very favorites to have in life. 

Is that all it takes to benefit from this beautiful give-and-take—just step forward and let it rip? Well, not always—I suppose the time and place of a vulnerable outpouring needs to be socially appropriate, and the emotional setting needs to be carefully set as well. I have some experience stepping over those lines in a bull-in-a-china-shop kind of way—and the results are less-than-desirable. But there are those that simply can’t have these conversations—a poet friend of mine called them the “invisible” people. Perhaps they have always been alone for some reason—whether they are marginalized by addiction, mental health issues, poverty, or other life experiences and circumstances. Pondering this sad fact had me feeling incredibly grateful. Just having people to turn to—without discomfort or fear—is really something to cherish. 

“How did this happen?,” I have been wondering. I have been through some tough things—childhood trauma, addiction, mental health challenges, life-threatening health scares—but haven’t we all had tough times? What makes one person open up to others—and another close down completely? That is the mystery question. I have been thinking about this for 20 years, and I still don’t know. 

That courage—to let the words come out when someone offers a loving ear. The words that come from deep in your soul—the words you have buried.  Perhaps these are words for a therapist—or is that just a safe place to start? I know I have different friends that I share different things with. I used to think that sharing these things was what a romantic partner was for. Now it is one of my deepest lessons-learned: That is too much for a romantic partner to bear. 

Knowing what and who to share something with is an art. It has taken a lot of practice for me—with some big misfires along the way. I now believe that sharing whatever is going on with me with the appropriate person is one of the top tools I use to maintain my mental and physical health. It’s like letting dangerous pressure out of a valve before a pipe blows. Another tool that is (mysteriously) just as good is being that loving, non-judgmental ear for someone else. Even if you don’t share a thing about your problem—being there for someone else lessens your own pain. What a thing to be human. 

What has come to me as life presses on is that we are here to experience the development of our souls. It’s the kind of thing you can fight—or give in to. I have done both. Giving in is better. 

So, give it a try today—be soft, be vulnerable, be open, be visible. The gifts are exponential. 

Until next time

Scott and Lennart