Accountability Partners

Someone I trust asked me a series of questions that left me tense and emotional. Her questions demanded more of me than most. She did not allow me to get away with what others do. My trust in her gave her the freedom to ask more of me and my commitment to personal development led me to fully engage in the conversation rather than retreat. 

One of the greatest benefits of relationships is obtaining accountability partners. In addition to being sources of encouragement, accountability partners guide us through phases of introspection, personal development, and emotional growth. Sadly, we have been told by others, taught by past hurts, or a combination of the two that we should not or cannot be vulnerable enough for an accountability partner. When asked about our dreams we allow insecurity to answer for us. When asked about our hopes we provide shallow explanations. When given the chance to be vulnerable we shut down. When insecurity answers for us, we cannot be truthful. When we only provide shallow explanations, we don't explore the deepest, most authentic parts of ourselves. When we shut down, we don't experience the beauty of trust. We prevent ourselves from the most meaningful aspects of relationships and from discovering the most powerful parts of ourselves.

The conversation I mentioned was uncomfortable. I didn't like how I felt nor did I like feeling that way in front of someone else. Yet I needed to experience it. My undeniable discomfort provided me with an awareness that I would not have discovered on my own. It took someone else—someone that I trust and someone with the strength to hold me accountable—to illustrate an area of my life that requires more of me, more conversation, more attention, and more work. 

Accountability partners are essential to your personal development and emotional growth. If you have been told or taught that you can't be vulnerable, learn a new lesson. If your insecurities speak louder than you do, strengthen your voice. If you have been too afraid to move beyond shallow conversation, push yourself to discover the deep end. If you have always shut down, it's time to open up. Don't miss out on one of the greatest benefits of human connection because of habit, temporary discomfort, and fear.

The Lesson in a Question

Someone asked me a question that caught me off guard. Considering our conversation, the question was not out of line and my answering it wouldn't have revealed anything that can't be found in my writings, but still it gave me pause. Writing about my life and having people read it is one thing, but saying the words across a dinner table is much more intimate and vulnerability always has the potential to freeze me. In a brief second, I had to decide if I would respond, "I'd rather not say," or simply answer her question and move on.

Discretion is absolutely necessary. Not everyone needs to know everything and not everyone should have our trust. Plus, we have been gifted with a support system purposefully. There are some discussions that are best if only had with those closest to us. However, our decision to reserve our pain for ourselves does more to reserve us. That decision holds us in solitude, shame, and guilt. Ultimately, it holds us back. We cling to the side effects of our pain by ourselves because we're convinced that if others knew they would use it against us, treat us differently, or love us less. Essentially, we believe that if others knew the cause or extent of our pain then they would view us through the same judgmental and harsh lens we use to see ourselves.

The next time you are afraid to open up consider whether you are projecting your own judgments on others. Is your fear appropriately placed? Has that person said or done anything to warrant your fear? Is it the actions of another that has made you so sure that you can't trust? Do you imagine someone using your pain or your decision to trust against you? Is your fear preventing you from progressing and getting healthy?

I considered this woman's question, this woman who I have known for quite some time, but didn't know very well. This woman I had never shared anything remotely personal with prior. This woman who hadn't done anything to earn my suspicions or distrust. This woman who asked me a question that she could find the answer to by reading about me online, but preferred a face-to-face conversation. I looked at this woman with a slate that wasn't tarnished with my defensive imagination nor the hurtful actions of others and decided to answer her. I didn't regret it in the seconds following and I don't regret it now. My world didn't crumble. She didn't treat me differently. She didn't look at me through the judgmental and harsh lens I use for myself. She did nothing to confirm the horrible things I have told myself. She merely heard me.

Permanent Minded

There is always one area of our lives that is the least favorable for us to work on. We avoid it. We ignore it. We dread it. However, failure to work through that particular area is what prevents us from flourishing. If we would push ourselves out of the temporary, fearful, uncomfortable place, we could walk into a permanent, peaceful, healthy space.

In recent years there has been an area of my life that I avoided. I convinced myself that I could get by without working on it. My rationalizations were persuasive. It isn’t that important. I would never—no matter how hard I tried—reach a level of normalcy anyway. I deserve letting that one fall short because I have done so much work reconciling my childhood already.

The beautiful—and sometimes irritating—part of growing and being more authentic is that it eventually becomes impossible to brush off emotional deficiencies. Over time, we grow less satisfied letting areas in which we excel or have handled well compensate for areas we’ve hidden or neglected. Eventually, we can no longer ignore those gapping holes.

The more I grew, the more aware I became, and one day it was impossible for me to continue ignoring the gapping hole in my healing process. I freed myself to feel it and had the nerve to allow someone else to walk that journey with me. It was already scary, but it was increasingly unnerving because someone else was going there, too, and that's yet another source of difficulty—exercising trust and vulnerability. 

In the beginning, giving myself permission to be transparent didn’t seem to help. It actually seemed worse. Sadness crept up on me more often. I hadn’t felt that dependent or needy before opening up. I actually thought I’d regressed so I considered making changes to prevent the sad, dependent, and needy feelings from returning. I was certain I’d made a mistake and was actually mad at myself for thinking that I could discuss that area of my life and get better.

Even still, I couldn't forget how impossible it had become for me to overlook the holes in my emotional health. I forced myself to continue through that uncomfortable phase. What I realized was that I hadn't regressed. I hadn't made a mistake. I was being open about something I previously refused to acknowledge. Of course I had feelings! Working through those temporary feelings has given me permanent clarity. I've become aware and now understand that:

1. I will no longer make excuses or apologies for my feelings. 
2. I am no longer conditioned to suffer silently and alone.
3. I am no longer convinced that it is acceptable for me to be anything less than whole. 
4. I will no longer make a potentially permanent decision because on temporary feelings. 

Know that you are worth the work it takes to become whole. Recognize that how you feel at the start of a process is not a reflection of how you'll always feel. Push yourself out of the temporary, fearful, and uncomfortable places so that you can walk in a permanent, peaceful, and healthy space.

Vulnerability

I am not afraid of much. I embrace change. I have lived in more states than some visit. I have kayaked during a deluge, zip lined over a rain forest, and hiked down a mountain after dark. There is something, however, that can make my heart race, cause me to break out into a sweat, and turn my stomach. The physiological response I get from the mere thought of it has influenced my relationships and halted my growth. I would rather jump out of an airplane or ride in a race car during the Indy 500 than be vulnerable.

Being vulnerable is frightening. Sharing your life and experiences makes you feel as if you’ve handed over an arsenal of how to hurt you in the worst way imaginable. The thought of being emotionally open with others releases a floodgate of tormenting questions. Will they use this information against me? Will they share it with someone? Will they minimize my hurt? Will this change their perception of me? Will they think my story is too sordid and painful and walk away? Will this change our relationship?

Experiencing anxiety at the thought of being vulnerable is normal. It is scary to allow someone into your intimate, emotional space. However, being vulnerable—in healthy circumstances—is beneficial and ultimately, necessary to your growth. Vulnerability can show you beauty and peace in their most sincere forms. It can strengthen relationships and provide a much-needed sense of community and support. In addition to forging a trust- and love-filled bond with others, being vulnerable leads you one step closer to freedom. The painful, emotional associations you've clutched are released. Hurts and fears no longer control your life and boss you around. Sharing your stories can give you the boost of power and confidence needed to move forward.

Vulnerability is not simple. It’s uncomfortable and scary. Yet, when you have loving people in your life who are committed to your well-being and truly value your relationship, it is far more advantageous to take that leap. Give yourself permission to release what has held you back. Invest in your relationships by trusting. Allow yourself to be wrapped in the support that you need, but have refused to accept. Step out of your own way, let go, and become one step closer to being completely free.

Even though I would still prefer jumping out of a plane or going 200 mph on the Indianapolis Motor Speedway, I made a promise to press through my temporary heart racing, outbreak of sweat, and turning stomach to invest in myself enough to be vulnerable. I made this promise because being healthy has become much more important to me than being comfortable. In order to live a life of freedom I have to do what is required to be free.