“Don’t let them know you’re hurting. They’re like sharks… they’ll attack if they know you’re weak.”
This advice, as many of us have commonly heard in some form, is a dual-edged sword. On the one hand, it speaks to perseverance, grit, determination, and to mental toughness. It encourages people to summon their courage and confront whatever it is they fear or that is making them feel pain. In essence, it is a call to stand up and keep moving forward, one step at a time.
In many instances in life, this advice can be helpful. Particularly for those of us who have grown up in lavish first-world environments, a reminder that we are often capable of far more than we think we are can be just the message we need to move past an obstacle that has been especially difficult to maneuver. It’s in these types of situations where a lot of our character becomes exposed, and where we discover what we’re really made of.
On the other hand, this advice, as with anything taken to the extreme, can be incredibly limiting, and even self-sabotaging. The game becomes dangerous when people only see one pathway: don’t let them know you’re hurting. There is little danger in a balanced approach to this philosophy, as people then have a default mechanism for when things spiral out of control or the burden becomes too great. Many people, however, end up convincing themselves that this method is the only method. That exposing even the smallest weakness or insecurity would not only change the perceptions that other people have of them, but could even become so detrimental that it would lead to a complete and irreversible loss of identity.
Stepping outside our fragile egos, it’s easy to see that this isn’t a sustainable, nor, I’d argue, a desirable solution. After all, what is it that we’re trying to achieve? An emotionless state that other people can’t relate to? Framed like that, probably not.
That’s where vulnerability becomes a strength. In order to become a leader, or anyone who people respect, you must be relatable in some sense to the very people you are trying to lead. You must act in a way that they can see themselves, yet always be pushing the boundaries of what they think possible.
When we don’t show weakness, vulnerability, or insecurity, people can’t relate. In their brokenness, they feel all alone. And since everyone holds the same feelings to some extent, everyone feels alone, and like some rare mutated specimen with a problem that can’t be fixed.
When people show that side of them and expose some of their pain, people pay attention. People relate to the struggles that another person goes through and they can empathize, not only with the other person, but also with themselves. It brings a certain sense of relief that “oh, I guess I’m not the only one.”
When people show that they too can be weak, they prove that in weakness, you can also be strong.
Yes, hold strong, persevere, and test the limits of your capacities. Bravely continue the battle as you run towards the highest ideals in your life. Just don’t keep it all in forever.
By telling of your pain, you won’t just help yourself, but you’ll also help others in a way that they didn’t even know. Go on, tell them your story. Tell them your pain. In admitting weakness, we realize our strength.