Yesterday I had a brief experience of feeling vulnerable. It’s not my happy place, and I can generally roll with the punches. I’m stuck in my routine in many ways but I can be flexible and move things around while I’m on the fly.
But my vulnerability is I need someone in my home (a man who doesn’t know me at all outside the brain injury group we are both in) and I was wearing my ‘around the apartment’ clothes. A colored t-shirt and shorts you could see my hairy legs in. And I was in slippers (they were O.H. & S.) standard so I don’t slip over in my socks on the kitchen floor and most annoyingly, I didn’t put on a bra.
So, it is to say, I have one persona of black steel.
I know I can’t believe I even wrote that, when I’m out I want to be seen as slim, sleek, stylish, class, etc. Blah! Blah! Blah!
But when I’m at home I wear clothes, I do not wear them out. Colors, shorts. No one sees me, my carers don’t judge me, my cat doesn’t care. She looks at me weirdly when I have my hair out.
Yeah! That’s a hard pill to swallow.
That’s why I go out of my way to NOT make myself vulnerable.