Vulnerability

What's so attractive about vulnerability?

I've never been able to tell people when I am sad, or angry. I just hold it all in, until finally I can let it out through the self-inflicted cuts on my legs. I'm so afraid of being vulnerable that I won't even cut my arms, because someone may notice, may ask, may want to talk about it. All of that would make me vulnerable.

And yet, one of my good friends, opens up about everything. She tells people everything that is wrong in the present. She tells people her problems from the past.

In a way I admire her. Her ability to open up. I wish I could tell people that I am a cutter. That my mom did crack. That I watched my sister do it too. That I was afraid to ride in a car after my sister's accident. That I never really did coke, but once I did do a "numby."

I don't even tell people that I am in pain until it is almost unbearable.

I've always wanted to be strong.

But I remember going to a session on the beauty of women in the media. In the beginning, we were asked to find a picture in a magazine of a woman that we thought was beautiful, and tell why. I picked Angelina Jolie, because she is strong. But then we were shown a movie of how women are portrayed in the media.

Did you know that some high fashion editorial shots show things like women being lynched. That is considered beautiful. Another picture showed a woman laying in an alley, blood pouring out of her head, wearing a bright red dress. And I'll tell you, the first thing you notice is not the blood. It's the dress. And that is considered beautiful.

What the livin hell? That's terrifying.

I don't understand why that would be beautiful.

Apparently, the vulnerability is what's so gorgeous.

If that's what it takes to be beautiful, maybe I pass.