Eyes Rolling or Lightbulbs Glowing?

For those who know me, my admiration and love for Brené Brown is not a secret. I owe a lot of who I have become over the years to her and the concepts she introduced into my life. She gave me tools to recognize what bothers me, what gives me anxiety, what annoys me about the way people react, and most of all, what kind of person and leader I want to be.

At some point, I began talking about her work with people wherever I went, because I genuinely believe our workplaces, relationships, love life, friendships, you name it, will all be better if we understand the issues she raises and the solutions she offers.

When you hear the word vulnerability, at first, you might feel a shiver down your spine. The translation of the word into Farsi means prone to getting hurt. Your initial thought would be, why would I want to do that? As if there is not already enough harm and nonsense around us, and now I am supposed to deliberately put myself in the way of more harm?

But that is not it. This is just one example of how even languages can be unkind to the concept of vulnerability. The definition, based on data, is “the emotion that we experience during times of uncertainty, risk, and emotional exposure. It is not winning or losing. It is having the courage to show up when you cannot control the outcome.”

You might read this and think, how is that better? Uncertainty, risk, emotional exposure, no, no, and thank you, but no.

I know how you feel. I lived in that “thank you but no” land for decades. But I am telling you, give her work a fair chance, read a couple of her books, and suddenly you will start to see the truth in them. At least that is what happened to me.

Today, I introduced her to a new group of people. It took me more than a year to build up the courage to do so, as I was not sure how this group would take it. When your crowd mostly consists of engineers who talk in numbers, metrics, and technicalities, it is easy to forget that first and foremost, we are all human. And as Brown famously says, we are neurologically hardwired for connection. In the absence of connection, love, and belonging, there is always suffering.

Doing this presentation today was a vulnerable thing for me. I did not know how they would react. I was afraid I would see eyes rolling and sighs suggesting I was wasting their time with this soft stuff.

I am still not completely sure that this is not what some might have been thinking deep down, but at least what I saw was a group of people who, even if not convinced, listened. And if this was the first time they had heard about putting down their armor, about being brave and afraid at the same time, then I am glad I was the one to turn on that lightbulb in their minds.

As I was writing this, I asked myself, what is the purpose of this piece? Where am I going with it? And then I realized, I just wanted to keep this as a reminder of a day when I took a risk, when I was uncertain how people would take it, when I was scared of being ridiculed, and I did it anyway. The thing about showing courage is that sometimes, regardless of the result, the jolt you feel from putting yourself out there is rewarding enough. I am writing this before the gremlins of overthinking and self-doubt sneak in and start building imaginary scenarios and afterthoughts. Today was a good day.

If you want to build a team that will stay strong long after you are gone, if you are interested in creating a legacy for the people around you, read her books. In this chaotic, ever-changing, and frightening world, what is better than having tools for proper connection?

Choose courage over comfort. Choose whole hearts over armor. And choose the great adventure of being brave and afraid at the exact same time.