Today's e-bit is about vulnerability.

We will also talk about finding our home state (shall we call this homeostasis?), and learning to challenge ourselves mindfully rather than recklessly.

I want to start with gratitude.

Thank you so very much for reaching out last week to share your thoughts and comments after "Re-framing Rest" post!

Sometimes I feel like I am sending these e-bits into the outer space: occasionally I hear a comment from a student or a client about this post or another, but mostly it is quiet once I've sent things out - like a black hole swallowed yet another piece of writing. Not this time, though!

I cannot tell you how raw and scary it felt for me to share what I shared last week: I must have written and re-written that "Re-framing" half a dozen times. Vulnerability takes SO MUCH courage.

But then so many of you reached out to say that what I wrote made sense, hit the nail on the head, resonated with you on some level. None of that black hole business!

Thank you for taking the time to drop me a line - you've absolutely made my day!

Once again I am reminded of Brene Brown's words "vulnerability is the birthplace of authentic communication," - and this is where we are going to start today.

Back in the fall I wrote this post about the way that pain can disconnect us; how we get sick and tired about explaining how sick and tired we feel all of the time, and how that can alienate us from even our loved ones. I also wrote about brain chemistry - and how it changes when we feel connected, heard and accepted.

I believe I've discovered yet another piece of this connection puzzle, and that piece is, in fact, vulnerability.

Now looking back at my life and how I related and connected to others in the past, I can clearly see that I was building more walls than windows. At the time that I was at my most raw, frustrated, and feeling broken on the inside, I tried to appear strong and capable on the outside. The worst I felt, the harder I tried; back then it seemed that maintaining this appearance gave my life some sense on normalcy. And maybe it did - who knows? - everything serves its purpose.

Now, having gained this little experience with vulnerability, I can see how in fact I was building my own prison walls by keeping up with the appearances. I felt so very lonely and isolated - I couldn't connect even with my closest friends - yet baring it all (or, at least some of it) wasn't an option I was aware of.

I do remember the moment that I actually let myself be vulnerable for the first time - it was scarier than all heck. But what came out of that scary moment was this beautiful soft connection to another person. Soft with a capital S, this connection felt differently in my body - try as I may to describe the experience of that connection -  I can't quite put it into words, except to say this was like nothing I've ever felt before.

It was freeing.

Comforting.

Open.

Flowing.

And yes - SOFT.

It required no extra energy to maintain - it felt like a natural state of being - which made me wonder about the amount of energy I spent trying to keep with the appearances.

So how does that fold into pain care practice?

Here are some ways I can think of - and as usual, I do really appreciate all of your input, words of wisdom and your experiences - please share!

~ vulnerability is required for authentic self-expression, and authentic self-expression is a prerequisite for being (and feeling) heard, seen and understood. Our brain chemistry changes dramatically whenever we connect with another in this authentic way - we produce more pain-dampening biochemicals in this state of connection.

~ to me, keeping up the appearances requires insurmountable amount of tension - even if I am not consciously aware of that tension. This tension consumes huge amount of internal resources - and the only outcome (besides body-wide tightness) is alienation from others.

~ needing to rest might feel like a weakness to some of us. This may sound silly, but it really isn't. I know that in the past I  strove to appear strong - I wouldn't ask for a break or help even if (it is really less of an "if" and more of a "when") my body was in total agony. In my mind, being soft with myself equated to being weak. Yet again, it took vulnerability to recognize that I need to rest  - and also to give myself a permission to rest fully.

~ same principle comes along when we talk about challenging ourselves mindfully: unless we know how rest feels in the body and how well we can function when we've allowed ourselves time to restore, we have no GPS and no landmarks to lead us back home to body's normal - homeostatic - state of affairs. And if vulnerability is not on our radar, telling ourselves - and others - "enough is enough" becomes an insurmountable task.

This week's pain care yoga challenge - I consider being vulnerable both an act of courage and also a huge personal challenge - to be authentic in the way that you connect with others. Are you willing to try it on?

Thank you for reading!

Love, hugs and gratitude,