June 2017
Status is just a perceived thing.
Vulnerability is not about being weak. It is not about being needy. It is about being honest to your emotions and your feelings.
Reading it again now, I find myself wondering what exactly was going through my mind when I wrote those words.
Perhaps I was thinking about how easily we can become conscious of how other people see us.
Our position.
Our accomplishments.
Our image.
The person everyone thinks we are.
Status can look like so many things. It can be a title, a position, a reputation, or simply the perception that we are strong enough to handle whatever life puts in front of us.
But I wrote, “Status is just a perceived thing.”
And perhaps what I was trying to remind myself was this: what people perceive about us is not necessarily who we are.
Someone may see us as strong while we are quietly struggling.
Someone may think we have everything under control while, inside, we are asking questions we don't know how to answer.
Someone may admire our strength without ever knowing how many times we had to gather ourselves just to get through the day.
And maybe that is where vulnerability comes in.
For a long time, vulnerability can feel uncomfortable.
We are afraid that if we admit that we are hurting, people might think we are weak.
If we say that we need someone, they might think we are needy.
If we cry, perhaps someone will think we cannot handle life.
If we admit that something matters to us, we risk being misunderstood—or worse, having that vulnerability used against us.
So we learn to hide.
We learn to say, “Okay lang ako.”
We smile.
We carry on.
We become very good at looking strong.
But looking strong and being honest are not always the same thing.
I think that is what my younger self was trying to understand.
Vulnerability is not necessarily asking someone to rescue us.
It is not demanding attention.
It is not making our emotions everyone else's responsibility.
Sometimes vulnerability is simply saying:
This hurts.
I miss you.
I'm afraid.
I don't understand.
I need help.
This matters to me.
Or even:
I am not okay today.
There is courage in saying those things.
Not because we are surrendering our strength, but because we are refusing to pretend that we don't have feelings simply to protect an image.
And perhaps this is where I have come to understand my younger self a little better.
Being vulnerable doesn't mean giving up our strength. It means having enough courage to be honest about what we feel.
We can be strong and still cry.
We can be capable and still need someone.
We can be independent and still long for companionship.
We can know what to do and still be afraid.
We can have faith and still ask, “Why?”
We can smile and still have tears in our eyes.
None of these things cancel out our strength.
They simply remind us that we are human.
Looking back now, I wonder if I was also learning something about myself: that I don't always have to protect the version of me that other people see.
Maybe I don't have to prove that I am strong every single day.
Maybe I can simply be honest.
Because at the end of the day, status is perceived. Images change. People's opinions change. Circumstances change.
But honesty with ourselves?
That is something worth keeping.
So perhaps the old thought I found in my journal still deserves a place in my life today:
Vulnerability is not about being weak.
It is about being honest with what is happening inside us.
And sometimes, perhaps, the bravest thing we can say is simply:
“This is how I feel.”
And not apologize for it.
