The Art of Being Vulnerable

I woke up a few days ago and for some reason (lack of impulse control?) decided it was time to post some selfies in workout gear. Why? I am not entirely sure but after 8 months of intensely working out and eating right, and hitting the 50 pounds lost mark, I was really feeling myself. For many years, when I’d walk by a mirror or a window, I’d intentionally avert my gaze from my own reflection. So the idea of posting full length photos of myself in something other than a parka was unimaginable. But, I had the urge to do it and I’m glad I did. The trolls stayed home and the messages I got were all very supportive and inspiring. I am proud of how hard I’ve been working and the results I’ve seen, but more importantly I am downright giddy at the way it seems to have helped (emphasis on helped) keep my Parkinson’s symptoms in check. I say that because I know a big part of that is also thanks to science and the magic of Carbidopa Levodopa. But, for the most part, I feel really good right now and I attribute that to my focus on overall health - which frankly by now you are sick of hearing about. I am too….but stick with me. Here’s the post:

After I posted it, Ava (btw, whose 19th birthday is today…happy birthday sweet Ava Jane!) sent me this TedTalk by Brené Brown where she talks about the power of vulnerability. In it she discusses a research project she worked on where she interviewed many people and asked them if they felt loved and a sense of worthiness. Without exception, everyone who had a deep sense of worthiness or who felt very loved in life, exhibited a sense of courage, and more specifically the courage to be imperfect. This group of people had compassion for themselves and connection as a result of authenticity. They were, she went on to say, willing to let go of who they thought they should be in favor of who they really were. The people who felt most loved in life fully embraced vulnerability. They believed that what made the vulnerable, made them beautiful. 

Consider my mind blown. I love Brené Brown and had listened to her before, but listening to this was like she was literally talking directly to me. I kept waiting for her to say my name. Being imperfect and still worthy of love is a concept I, for the most part of my life, simply could never have accepted.

In my workout post, I shared a “before” picture of myself. It is, to put it compassionately, unflattering. You’ll likely say “Allie, be nice to yourself! You were beautiful before and you are beautiful now.” Yes, I know…blah blah bah, but I remember the moment so vividly and I was devastated when I saw it. For as long as I could remember, I only took, and definitely only posted selfies. I rarely if ever let myself be photographed full length. And if I did let that happen, I was very careful to stand in the middle of a pack or slightly behind whoever I was in the picture with. And then I almost always deleted them. I’m not sure what made me keep this particular photo when I have scrubbed most evidence of imperfect Allie, but I did keep it, as well as one where I am wearing a giant orange foam Texas hat but that’s for another day. I hated looking at myself and was terrified that people would look at bad photos of myself and love me less. It’s really sad to write that and even sadder to know it was true. 

I think this is why I became obsessed with decorating, and re-decorating my house. Having the “perfect” house was foolproof. There was nothing vulnerable about it - just great paint colors and makeover projects. I started a website called Designing on the Side (which is sadly down right now due to technical issues that I can’t seem to get fixed) and while I absolutely loved decorating and still do, I was, as Brené says, selectively numbing myself from the misery I felt about the way I looked and more importantly, the way I felt through decorating. I was hiding in my perfect house and behind the carefully selected, albeit beautiful, pictures I posted of it. If I had a house that everyone envied, I must be lovable right? Maybe it’s not that deep, after all I just really like wallpaper, but looking back now it feels like my house was my armor protecting me from really being seen. But, let’s’ be honest, it’s good armor. I seriously love our house.

Anyway, along comes last Tuesday morning, and I catch sight of myself in one of the many carefully selected mirrors in my pretty little house and I’ll be honest, I didn’t recognize myself. I stopped, felt really good and strong, and snapped a pic, and as I said, completely out of my normal character, posted it. It’s not as groundbreaking as I’m making it seem but I felt incredibly vulnerable for doing it. I waited for people I love to be like “jeez Allie, enough with the influencer crap” or for strangers to say “you don’t look that great lady, calm down” but neither happened thankfully. In fact, I got a great response and I could have left it there. But then something compelled me to post the before photo of me from 2018. And I realized in that moment, the really vulnerable part of this post wasn’t showing the world what I look like now, in a sports bra and leggings. The truly vulnerable part was posting a picture of myself from before. I started my Parkinson’s focused Instagram account imstillallie in April - well into my health journey and all the pictures I’ve posted so far are of the “new” me. The 2500 or so followers I have have never seen what I used to look like and I was truly terrified that in posting it, I’d lose followers or incur some judgment. Or that someone would steal the content and use it for a foreign weight loss ad without my permission. Like, am I going to be in Italy one day with my picture on the side of a bus?

These and other intrusive thoughts plagued me immediately after I posted it and it took a lot of strength not to delete it, but the whole point in creating an online community focused on my Parkinson’s journey is to create real connections. And as I learned from Brené’s talk, real connection only comes from being your true authentic and vulnerable self. I am not out here try to become an Instagram influencer who unboxes PR gifts (though, someone send me to a weeklong spa, I beg!) I’m trying to find a group of people, and especially women, who can relate to what I am going through - whether they have this disease, or a different one, or none at all - who have maybe lost their identity and who are trying to find their own path back to health, happiness, and worthiness. And instead of getting negative comments, I got a lot of great messages saying “I’m right there with you”. 

The response I got only solidified what I had already begun to realize - that I am not even remotely alone in losing myself. As I’ve said before, so many women have given their entire heart and soul to their families, their careers and to other people, and they are now waking up, facing the next chapter of their lives and realizing they don’t recognize the person they have become. And I’m not just talking about weight. I’m talking about feeling incomplete and unworthy. It is a hopeless, helpless feeling and I think the path to changing that is allowing ourselves to be really vulnerable and open with the people we love about what we need to feel better. For me, that was a renewed focus on my physical health and strength. But for others, it might be a need for more resources at home with caregiving, or it might mean mental health support. Whatever it is, we can’t identify it unless we talk about it and be open about the ways in which we are struggling. Hiding in our perfect houses, or in carefully edited selfies, is the way to perpetuate the problem, not fix it. 

And now that I’ve done it, that I’ve shown the world what I considered my darkest secret and come out on the other side relatively unscathed, I feel free. Who knows what is next for me - I might just end up naked on the internet at some point. It’s hard to say. But here’s the really ironic part of all of this vulnerability and transparency. In addition to having it help create meaningful connections, I think the real takeaway for me is that the people who love me now, 50 pounds lighter, loved me then too. Most didn’t care what I looked like, and in fact, they thought I was beautiful and worthy of their love regardless. It was only ME that believed otherwise and looking back at myself now, I feel so much compassion and heartbreak for that person who really felt that her worthiness was tied to her dress size. I wonder if had been more open about struggling, if I had put down my weapons in the fight to seem perfect, would have made the change to be healthier sooner? I know for certain I am much happier now being who I really am and I’m sorry for the years I wasted. Just one more example of how Parkinson’s has changed my life for the better.

A few weeks ago, Mike and I went to Acadia National Park and hiked to the summit of one of the mountains there. Not the crazy scary climb because I am not a psychopath like some of you out there, but a respectable hill, let’s call it. This is my 10th blog post on this site and I feel the way I did when we got to the little rock pile at the top of the hike. It is an accomplishment that I am proud of and one that has let me wander for many proverbial miles down the path of inner discovery and to some extent, self indulgence. My next post though is going to represent a slight shift in content and direction - maybe not forever, but at least for a little while. It’s time to start looking outward at the world I find myself in now and I am excited to do that with a fantastic new partner. More to come…so stay tuned in 10 days or so. 

Mike and I on a medium summit - not the scary one - at Acadia National Park.

Until then, go see Barbie. I cried. Yes - it’s that good and they cover so much of what I talk about above. It’s about being who we really are and not hiding behind unrealistic expectations of perfection. It’s incredible and if you don’t like it, ask yourself why and really reflect on that for awhile. And when you do, just know that I, 100% had, and loved Weird Barbie. Here’s proof, courtesy of my mom who literally keeps everything.

PS…I redid my website! Hope you like it. Thanks to the immensely talented Julie Monticello for the great pics and for my sister for her unending guidance!