Resilience, Vulnerability and Leading a Purposeful Life: The 2 Qualities You Need to Live With Purpose

If you’ve followed my work for a while, you know I don’t want to simply describe a problem. I want to talk about what you can do about it. That’s the kind of therapist I am. I’m a “look for what you have control over, and put-your-energy there” person, with the goal of helping you to lead a life filled with purpose.

But please don’t misunderstand me. That doesn’t mean pretending you can control everything. You can’t.

Maybe you were abused as a child. Perhaps your spouse betrayed you. Or you’re watching someone you love struggle mightily. That kind of pain can leave you feeling powerless, even paralyzed. However, finding a way to live with purpose can bring meaning back into your life.

Yet even when you cannot control what happened, you can ask yourself: What am I trying to feel, accomplish, become, create, or model now? That question can help you reconnect with a sense of purpose.

And two qualities are essential to living with purpose: resilience and vulnerability.

 

What does it really mean to be resilient?

People often praise someone in pain by saying, “You’re handling this so well. I could never do what you’re doing.” The comment is meant kindly, but it can become a trap. You may begin to feel that others value the appearance of resilience—and might respect you less if you admitted, “I cried myself to sleep,” or “I’m struggling to get through the day.”

Years ago, I worked with a mother whose daughter had been brutally murdered. The forensic evidence had been mishandled, the case remained unresolved, and every answer seemed to open another painful question. Why her daughter? Why had no one come forward? Why had the evidence been lost?

She was tired of looking resilient. She needed one place where she did not have to perform strength. She needed to feel everything she was carrying.

That raises an important question: If you’re resilient, are you allowed to show vulnerability? And if you admit that you’re vulnerable, does that mean you’re not resilient?

Here’s my answer: Resilience and vulnerability aren’t opposites. In fact, they need each other.

Resilience is often defined as the capacity to recover from difficulty—the ability to bend, adapt, and return. But resilience is not a fixed trait that some people possess and others do not. It can grow. Three elements are especially important:

• Mindset. A setback is something that happened, not proof of who you are. Instead of “I failed, so I am a failure,” resilience says, “I failed. I can learn, adjust, and try again.”
• Connection. Even one supportive person can matter enormously. One person who consistently communicates that you are worthy and valuable can help you build a more resilient sense of self.
• Spirituality or a guiding principle. This may be religion, meditation, gratitude, service, or an overarching value. A connection to something larger than the immediate moment can give suffering context and help you locate purpose.

How vulnerability gives you back your power

Brené Brown’s work has helped many people understand that vulnerability isn’t weakness. It’s the pathway to courage. We often hide vulnerability because shame has taught us that struggle is inferior to a stiff upper lip: Stay calm. Carry on. Rub some dirt in it.

Yet what we refuse to acknowledge can quietly govern us. What we name, accept, and understand becomes something we can work with.

I’ll use a simple example from my own life. I can be impatient. (It’s not one of my better traits.) I’m highly conscious of time passing, and when something takes “too long,” I can get antsy. My son likes to tease me when I shift from foot to foot in a grocery-store line: “Got a plane to catch, Mom?”

If I deny my impatience, it may run the show before I even notice it. If I accept it, I can recognize the feeling when it appears. I can stop, breathe, and remind myself that things will happen in their own time. Admitting the vulnerability gives me a choice: I can be governed by impatience, or I can return to my purpose of treating people well.

I once worked with an accomplished marathon runner who’d developed an intense fear of becoming sick around mile 17 or 18. It had happened more than once. She found it humiliating and began telling herself that perhaps she should stop racing altogether.

She was treating the problem as intolerable evidence that something was wrong with her. But once she accepted that it had become part of her experience, she could plan for it. She adjusted her nourishment schedule and arranged for friends to meet her near the difficult mile marker and run beside her.

In therapy, she also discovered links between the attention her physical strength received and shame connected to earlier abuse. She worked through those links instead of allowing them to remain hidden.

Acceptance did not mean resignation. It returned her power. By acknowledging what was vulnerable, she could act on what was within her control. (I’ve written before about how accepting a painful new reality can help you find resilience and peace.)

Living with purpose doesn’t mean you’re not struggling

You grow more resilient when you allow yourself to struggle, because resilience is not about never falling. It is knowing that if you fall, you can respond with care, ask for help, learn what the moment requires, and rise again.

We all have vulnerabilities. They don’t define us any more than our strengths do. They are information, signals about where we hurt, what we fear, what we value, and where we may need support.

Revealing vulnerability does not pull you away from your purpose. It can help you stay aligned with it.

Purpose gives you a reason to keep on keeping on. Vulnerability allows you to tell the truth about how hard that can be. And resilience is what grows when you make room for both.

So I’ll leave you with this question: What vulnerability might you need to acknowledge—not to give it more power, but to give yourself more choice?

 

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