Today marks the first year anniversary of my literary coming out on Instagram. I remember still the roller coaster of emotions that came along with me clicking on the “Share story” button. It was late in the night, well past my bedtime when, using the mobile app, I decided to start sharing my stories, film reviews, feelings and, maybe more than often, intrusive thoughts.

Because I didn’t like the way the lyrics of Fix You were arranged and edited when clicking on the link, I moved to the living room, to the surprise of my cat, not used to me being awake and active at such an hour. I opened my laptop, fixed the problem and returned to the bedroom to catch some Zs. But the excitement I felt, the jitters, the butterflies and maybe other flying creatures in my stomach wouldn’t let me sleep. I felt exposed, to say the least.

You see, I’ve been hiding under a mask of perfection since I can remember. Not that I was realizing it at three or four, but I was that perfectly behaved little girl, best at school, never causing problems and always being the one teachers compared the not so perfect kids to. Years passed and life dealt me a harder hand to play. Even then, I hid it from most of my friends and close ones, I acted aloof and never talked about my greatest fears.

Because, you see, we are taught that being vulnerable and showing some sort of emotion is a weakness. You are a wuss, a pussy, a whiner, a drama queen or an attention seeker. Of course, there is a category of people who do this for attention or validation, but I’m not referring to it. I’m talking about owning your story, playing the hand you were dealt and exposing your fears in a healthy way.

An example that comes to mind of how people hide their vulnerabilities is related to a woman I met while waiting for my monthly prescription. We started talking about the diagnosis we have in common and how it all started for each of us. I told her how, even though I could barely see with my left eye when trying to focus on details, reading or writing, I managed to complete a full five week exam session without complaining or failing an exam. I only cried once in front of someone, that being my best friend. Then this woman told me that after her lumbar puncture, a procedure that, after it’s done, causes infernal headaches while standing, the next day she had an exam, during which she puked for two or three times.

I felt for her twenty something year old self, as I felt for mine. We were so determined not to complain, not to cancel plans or to do something different because we were suffering. We were determined to act like nothing happened and we are fine (insert Ross squeaky voice here).

So the Universe decided that I can’t hide it no more. It’s like it said: now you learn to expose those fucking emotions, now you heal, now you understand that being vulnerable doesn’t mean you are less of a person. But, because I am very stubborn and rigid, the lesson was like a giant slap. I had tinnier opportunities beforehand, but I was too caught up in my perfect behavior to seize them. They added up and now we’re here: strangers asking if they can help me in any way, bus drivers stopping the bus so that I can climb easier, friends and close ones adjusting their schedules around my needs.

At first, I felt like I was taking advantage of them. I felt guilty for using the disability to obtain small favors. I felt furious and blamed myself, yet again. I hated asking my mom to buy groceries or my dad to take out the trash in winter time, when the roads were slippery. I hated asking my friends to meet me in the bus station and walking together two hundred meters to the coffee place or asking one of the girls to accompany me to the bathroom when my legs felt the weakest. All in all, I hated it all. I felt like an infant in an adult world, like I was, in a way or another, degrading.

Circling back to the reason behind this post, after sharing my first story and ever since then, something magical has happened: people started replying to my stories. From very close friends to people I haven’t spoken to in years, they reached out with the kindest, most supportive and heartfelt words. I was mesmerized by the effects that my opening up had. As the mirror technique says, you can only see the outside world as your inside one is.

So, as soon as I started to embrace my faults and mistakes, as soon as I ripped the band aids, as soon as I said to the world “This is me, I’m hurting and I wanna share it with you”, as soon as I stopped judging my vulnerabilities, the outer world changed. It became a world where it’s fine to hurt and heal, a world of support and kind words said at the right time, a world where being vulnerable in a healthy way is a blessing, not a curse.

People meet you at the point you have met yourself. People can love you just as much as you love yourself. People can understand you as much as you understand yourself. It’s all a reflection. So what I’m trying to say, dear gentle reader (yes, Bridgerton is a guilty pleasure of mine), is thank you. Thank you for reaching out, thank you for the kind words, thank you for giving me five minutes of your time to compose a nice message after reading my posts. Thank you for creating a safe environment for me to pour out my heart and soul, it feels nice. It means the world to me and it’s not the narcissistic part of me talking right now. Because I’m not doing it for attention, I’m doing it because it’s helping me calm my demons. So, thank you for being this awesome mirror and for showing me just how far I’ve come in my evolution. I just hope I can, someday, do the same for you. Because you deserve it.

Later edit: I wrote this post some weeks ago, when inspiration hit. I named it Work in progress just to remind myself that I need to finish it until this date. As I looked at it now, trying to figure out how to name it, well, I kinda like the original title. Because I am a work in progress and one of the lessons I have to learn in this lifetime is to trust and love the process of becoming. And, let’s face it, if the process was over, I wouldn’t be here anymore.