For even after 15 years of marriage, seeing my diabetes management up this close is a game-changer. And, truth be told, there's something profoundly satisfying for me to see this transformation occurring in him. The rest we'll just have to figure out as we go.
It's now been a year and a half and I am learning to trust myself. That has taken a lot of work on my part and I have cried many tears getting there as the fear of opening myself up to getting hurt again sometimes engulfs me.
It wasn't my smarts that turned the tide, nor my ambition or doggedness. It was my vulnerability.
It wasn't until this week though, when I read a particular letter, that the reality of what going this deep with one another on a large scale could look like. And feel like.
Her friends will tell you, "She's a fantastic friend. Always there for you when you need her." Strangely enough, they don't seem to know what kind of deeper issues she might have.
Pay attention to what makes you feel better (and worse). Yet it really is possible to thrive amid uncertainty. It's not about
My hesitancy about expressing my want for my own evolution is that I'm a private person -- well, that's what I've been telling myself. But I saw recently that it was mainly just vulnerability. Opening myself up to things that I otherwise don't have to address.
We tend to equate vulnerability with weakness, but according to author and researcher Brene Brown, who has made a career out of researching shame and vulnerability, allowing ourselves to be truly seen and understood by others is a powerful source of creativity, innovation and transformation.
Brown is an expert in shame and vulnerability and professor at University of Houston's Graduate College of Social Work. In
3. The man takes his daughter for her first day of preschool. She’s in tears, screaming, "Daddy, don’t go!" and the man is