Vulnerability is a superpower

When one day you find out that the very thing you thought was your biggest weakness was actually your greatest strength.

OK, so it sounds perverse, but what if it is true - like vulnerability is a superpower, for real!

By the way, Alan v1, (the previous version of “me”) would not for one minute have entertained such a thought about showing weakness. But then, of course, he was conditioned to do so. Completely hoodwinked, like the rest of us, by a society that thought that stoicism was to be revered. That we needed to stop being a weakling, not embarrass ourselves and everyone else listening by bleating about our own problems. We needed to just get on with it. Demeaned further with clever humour:

‘Make like curtains and pull yourself together. Why don’t you!’

And thereby hangs a tale (pardon the pun).

We sheep all buried our worries and stored them up. Like so many pressure cookers whistling on the stove, waiting to the point where the valve blows off. Such a clever strategy, eh? Not.

I can’t tell you exactly when things started to change but it is most definitely happening. Perhaps assisted by ‘A to D Celebrities’ pouring out their mental health challenges on TV; captivating us with their openness. Their honesty. Jeez, who knew?

I am, of course, not on any such list. That said, my own experiences of coming to terms with my challenges are no less significant. No less notable and no less worthy of discussing.

They have in fact shaped the new version of Alan v2. A much healthier ‘me’. The one who is typing these very words. Words that I would NOT be typing but for the revelations of 12th March 2020. A day that was a game-changer for me.

On that day I was making a pre-retirement address to the management team of my employer. My boss (the MD), my colleagues in the management team and our direct reports; 40 or so people were there.

During that address I relayed a story that I had (as well as I could) memorised. It was not a typical work presentation – as the audience would soon realise. Having led my colleagues through a meandering tale of my 20 years with the company with a few jokes and recollections intertwined, I led them unwittingly to the precipice. The point at which I would jump.

I would tell them …

“When I look in the mirror at night, I see the real me. Not the one that you see. A man who has a lack of self-confidence. Lack of self-belief. Plagued by anxiety and obsessive compulsions. One who worried that he would be uncovered. That he would be found out.

The shame would be unbearable. Would I ever again be trusted to be a leader? To do my job? “

It was an emotional roller coaster during which I did jump. It was, of course, a premeditated act. I was not pushed. What gave me the strength to propel myself over that cliff was guilt. Or fear of guilt. After all, I had been in a position of responsibility with my employer. I had joined and been trained in the company’s mental health programme to help encourage team members to seek help.

I was supposed to be a Leader. What kind of example would I set if I just retired saying nothing? Giving the impression that all was well with me. That masking was the best way. I was perhaps the best worked example of all of what NOT to do!

No, to say nothing would have been weak.

I could not simply walk away; risk suffering the regret of a missed opportunity or from a lack of willingness to expose my vulnerability.

That day was the start of a new phase of life for me. One in which I would pretty well change my internal mental workings. A new software. Where I would develop more confidence in myself, more empathy with others and ignite a desire within me to promote mental health. To extol the virtues of poetry, of writing, of speaking out to help people heal.

My strategy was a “no going back” one. When you say stuff out loud or publish your words you need to live by them. You can’t take them back and I didn’t and don’t want to. By the way, for someone who lives with OCD, that is a big f*****g ask. A HUGE ask. But that’s another story.

Anyway, I then met Dan, and I would join the other men who had likewise overcome the silence and talked to Dan on his GoodEnoughChats podcast.

It really was quite a liberating experience. Since then, I have been introduced to the other guests on Dan’s ever-growing season of podcasts and there is a genuinely warm feeling about being connected with liked-minded people. We are all so very different yet we have one very important point of commonality: A willingness to show vulnerability. The very thing that binds our cohort together.

We have all found it in ourselves, encouraged by Dan, to speak out. Not just to help ourselves but more importantly to show to others who are less inclined to talk about their challenges, to do so. To help encourage them to confront their own problems. To make them feel less alone.

Whether those listeners join GoodEnoughChats and do as we have done is not the point. We all need inspiration from others. So, if by listening to one of us talking encourages someone like you, Reader, to do something positive to help yourself, then it has all been worthwhile.

You don’t need to take a giant leap and tell the whole world. Just seek help from someone. A safe haven. A confidante. Experiment with writing down what worries you. Do something to start the process of unburdening.

I am no scientist, no doctor, nor psychiatrist by the way - all I have is my very own unplanned, unscripted story to work from.

But I have now found a more comfortable place to be. A place where deeper self-understanding has given me a new foundation on which to build.

Not being scared to be vulnerable has been at the core of me re-education.

I may not be a Marvel Superhero but I have discovered a well-hidden superpower.

And I suspect that you have one too.

You just need to look for it.

Best wishes Alan v2 Alan has written a book about his experiences of OCD, called 'Breaking my Silence'. You can order a copy via Amazon here.