Every summer, I spend at least a week in Yosemite Valley. The group accompanying me changes slightly each trip, but our activities stay the same. We hike, swim, and find whatever we can to jump off. Over the years, I learned that jumping doesn’t stop being scary; you just get better at it. Count down from three, leap, and let the cold wash over you.
When I first arrived at college, I was terrified and avoided a lot of experiences because I feared change. Halfway through my first year, I became truly invested in my time at school. I felt so vulnerable at the time, but I was also growing into somebody stronger, who I couldn’t yet define. I went to my first forest rave, a UCSC rite of passage, and embarrassed myself so badly my roommate had to pull me away from the crowd. I tried out subjects that weren’t right for me and was shown up by every single one of my classmates. I wanted to overcompensate for my social awkwardness, so I tried to befriend any stranger I could.
Now I’m an upperclasswoman; I’ve found two subjects I love, and I spend most of my time with my friends who used to be strangers. Looking back, being indecisive, spending nights at home, trying to perfectly anticipate what the next day would bring was scarier than letting myself be embarrassed and fail. Embarrassment and failure are necessary for growth. My self-worth wasn’t destroyed by a few mortifying nights. My academic career isn’t over because I wasn’t stellar in a few classes. If anything, my careless actions are now old stories my friends and I joke about. Those vulnerable moments felt overwhelming at the time, but they have allowed me to evolve.
It seems that so many people now are caught up with choosing their next step perfectly. Whether it’s obsessing over grades, spending hours drafting a text to a potential love interest, or refusing to reach out to a friend because they haven’t done it first–we fear the outcomes of our actions so severely that we don’t act at all. It makes me wonder which is worse: indecision or vulnerability.
Indecision is worse because it forces you to stand still; it goes against the momentum that is life. Of course, there are moments where we are beckoned to be still and reflect: when we grieve, when we are tired, when we think about how we impact others. However, spending hours calculating all possible outcomes builds more dread than simply having a bad moment. Sometimes we might feel that the dread of overthinking is better than the embarrassment of failure; but overthinking is indefinite, a bad moment is fleeting. We want to avoid the feelings that come with failure so badly that we don’t consider what could go right. Dodging awkwardness is a lost opportunity to build resilience. Some of the memories that still make me laugh the hardest were mortifying at the time.
If you feel unsafe or uncomfortable in an experience, don’t push yourself beyond your limit. However, vulnerability can serve as a vessel for new experiences and knowledge. If nothing else, vulnerability allows you to explore some of the feelings we most try to avoid, like nervousness and awkwardness. Life is dulled without curiosity. If we’re really only here once, why not try our best to experience the full range of our psyche? The unusualness granted by being vulnerable is like jumping into a cold river: it’s a swift adjustment that can carry you into an unexplored feeling.