Why Vulnerability is a Superpower
The Softest Thing
There are parts of you you’ve hidden away
Places that still tremble
Stories that make your voice crack when you try to tell them
Tears that rise before you even know why
The things you don’t want anyone to see
Not because they’re unworthy
But because they’re so real
You’ve been taught that strength is armor
That control keeps you safe
That tenderness leaves you weak
That emotion is chaos
That softness will get you hurt
So you built walls
Wore masks
Mastered the art of being okay, even when you weren’t.
What if I told you
That the parts of you you’ve been hiding
Are the very source of your power?
Vulnerability isn’t collapse
It’s not oversharing, or bleeding out in someone’s hands
It’s the raw, quiet courage of being honest
Of saying:
“This is me.”
“Here’s where it hurts.”
“I don’t know, but I’m still showing up.”
There is nothing braver than that.
Show me something more heart-cracking,
Heart-opening than someone laying themselves bare.
Show me something more brave and courageous
To be vulnerable is to let yourself be seen
Not in your perfection, but in your humanness.
It’s a sacred risk
A prayer that says:
“I believe there is someone on the other side of this who will still choose me”
And if not?
I will choose myself.
The strongest people I’ve known are the ones who shake when they speak,
And speak anyway.
The ones who cry mid-sentence
And don’t apologize for it.
The ones who walk into love with their scars visible
As an offering.
You don’t need to be invulnerable to be powerful
You need to be honest
Present
Soft in the places you once armored.
Because that softness?
It moves mountains.
It melts resistance.
It invites intimacy.
It brings truth into the room like a gust of wild, holy air.
Let your voice quiver
Let your heart be on the outside of your ribs
Let yourself be witnessed in your mess and your magnificence.
It’s not weakness, my love.
It’s alchemy.
It’s healing.
It’s your own personal superpower,
Giving everyone around you permission to do the same.
