Owning Our Stories: How Vulnerability Leads to Self-Forgiveness

Book Credit: Rising Strong by Brené Brown

Oct 30, 2024

Dear Adventurers,

Forgiving others can feel monumental, but often the hardest task is forgiving ourselves—for the things we didn’t do, didn’t accomplish, or for the ways we are not who we think we "should" be. The journey of self-forgiveness isn’t about perfection. It’s about allowing ourselves to be vulnerable—not newborn-giraffe vulnerable, wobbly, and exposed, but a vulnerability coated with humility and curiosity.

Take, for example, a situation where you’ve overcommitted yourself at work, missing important personal deadlines because you couldn’t say no. It’s easy to beat yourself up, telling yourself you’ve failed in both your work and personal life. But self-forgiveness, in this instance, means recognizing that you are doing the best you can with the resources you have. It’s stepping back, being vulnerable with yourself, and admitting that it’s okay to adjust your boundaries going forward.

I remember something a peer in group therapy once shared: “I am enough. I do enough. I have enough.” Brené Brown speaks to this too, defining wholehearted living as coming from a place of inherent worthiness. It’s about knowing that we are imperfect, vulnerable, and sometimes afraid, but still brave and worthy of love and belonging.

Unfortunately, in the world we live in, hustle culture reigns supreme. We chase results, burn ourselves out, and distance ourselves from loved ones in the name of productivity. The mainstream definition of success—keeping up with the Joneses—can blind us. But I’m here to remind you: What you don’t get done in a day doesn’t diminish how lovable and miraculous you are.

Consider those days when you only ticked off a single item from your to-do list—does that mean you’re less worthy? Of course not. When I find myself in that mindset, I take a moment to breathe and ask, “What did I do today that added value to my life?” It might be as simple as connecting with a friend or walking outside. That small step in forgiving myself brings me back to center.

Let’s Talk Vulnerability

“Vulnerability—the willingness to show up and be seen with no guarantee of outcome—is the only path to more love, belonging, and joy.”

In Brown’s words, vulnerability is the key to our growth and healing. But what does vulnerability actually look like in daily life?

Think about the last time you had a disagreement with someone close to you. It’s tempting to shut down, keep your feelings hidden, or pretend everything is okay to avoid conflict. But vulnerability might mean sitting with that discomfort and being honest with the other person about how you truly feel, even if you’re afraid of the reaction. This creates space for understanding and deeper connection, but it’s also where you have to forgive yourself for whatever imperfections arise in that honest conversation.

We must be mindful of who we allow into our "arena." As Brown explains, an arena is any space where we take risks by showing up and being seen. Amid life's challenges—our personal battles—it's essential to choose carefully who joins us in that vulnerable space. Friends, family, and colleagues may offer advice, believing they have our best interests at heart, but not everyone is truly in the arena with us. Some are simply shouting from the sidelines. No matter how well-intentioned, not all counsel is wise. Vulnerability requires discernment. Remember: access to you, especially in times of struggle, is a privilege.

Here’s a practical approach: Create a list of people who you feel truly support your growth and healing. When you face a difficult situation, lean on this trusted group. Then, create another list of people who tend to diminish your sense of self-worth. When vulnerability arises, make a conscious decision not to invite these individuals into your arena. Like Frodo wouldn’t have wanted Smeagol by his side through his entire journey, we must be cautious about who we let enter the arena with us.

Gold-Plated Grit Meets Gilded Failure

We live in a culture that often sanitizes stories of failure and resilience. We love a good recovery story—stories where people rise from the ashes, but we tend to gloss over the ugly middle. It’s tempting to skip the pain and rush to the triumphant end. But when we do this, we create a Gilded Age of Failure—a time where we celebrate resilience without acknowledging the real emotional consequences of falling. We strip the grit and resilience of the rawness that makes them so transformative.

In reality, we can’t learn from our consequences if we skip the messy middle of our healing process. Picture this: You’re building a house, but the insulation is missing in the hallway walls. Sure, the house can stand and function, but what happens in winter or during a storm? The home becomes vulnerable to its environment. Similarly, when we skip the healing process—the messy middle of heartbreak, failure, or mistakes—we become vulnerable to external pressures. We miss the opportunity to build a stronger emotional, mental, and spiritual foundation for ourselves.

Here’s how you can apply this: the next time you face a setback, take time to journal or reflect on the emotions you are experiencing. Don’t rush past them. If you’ve experienced a relationship ending or a failure at work, ask yourself what this experience is teaching you about resilience. Instead of focusing solely on bouncing back quickly, allow yourself to feel the mess and explore what it means for your personal growth.

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Rising Strong Means Owning Our Whole Story

“Daring is not saying, ‘I’m willing to risk failure.’ Daring is saying, ‘I know I will eventually fail, and I’m still all in.’”

The truth is that our wholeheartedness depends on integrating all of our experiences, including the tough ones. The mess we try to disown, the falls we want to forget—those are part of what makes us, us. Embracing them, instead of trying to scrub them away, is what allows us to rise strong.

To truly rise strong, we must embrace our stories' ugly and uncomfortable parts. This might look like acknowledging mistakes you made in past relationships or work projects, and instead of wishing they never happened, using those experiences to shape how you move forward. If we deny those parts of our story, we end up building an incomplete picture of ourselves, one that doesn’t reflect the richness of our humanity.

For example, when I first started the Shire Bonsai Network, I struggled with self-doubt and fear of failure. Instead of rushing past those feelings, I sat with them. I wrote about them. I explored where they were coming from and what they were trying to teach me. That process of sitting with the discomfort allowed me to create a stronger foundation for this community because it was built not just on success, but on embracing the messy parts of growth too.

When you own your whole story, you stop running from the parts that make you uncomfortable and start using them as stepping stones to build something greater. So the next time you reflect on your past, don’t just focus on the wins. Think about the mistakes, the falls, and the messy parts—and find the lessons in them. It’s through this process that we truly rise strong.

Final Thoughts

As we wrap up our series on forgiveness, I encourage you to consider self-forgiveness as a practice. It’s a continual process of self-compassion, vulnerability, and rumbling with the hard stuff. Rising strong is not just about bouncing back—it’s about owning the ugliness, the falls, and the grit it takes to get back up. When we forgive ourselves for being human, we allow ourselves to heal, grow, and move forward with strength and grace.

Keep adventuring, friends. We’re all in this together.

Self-Reflection

In what areas of my life am I struggling to forgive myself, and how can I begin to extend compassion toward those parts of me? Reflect on moments where you feel weighed down by self-criticism. Consider how you might show yourself the same grace you would offer to a loved one.
Who is in my arena? Are there people in my life offering true support, or am I allowing voices from the sidelines to influence my path? Take a moment to evaluate who you trust with your vulnerability. Are you being intentional about who has access to your journey?
When have I skipped over the 'messy middle' in my healing process, and how might revisiting those moments help me build a stronger foundation? Think back to times when you avoided dealing with difficult emotions. What lessons could you learn if you allowed yourself to fully engage with those experiences now?