Heyoo! I'm back, well, actually, I'm not making any promises. But, I wrote a piece recently that I wish to share. I'll stop talking and get to the good bit...
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I am an introvert; I find solace in solitude. But, it turns out that public speaking is one of the few things that doesn't make me anxious. Ironic, I know. But, it hasn’t always been this way. Before my accident, I was never vulnerable. I protected myself from emotions of any sort, speaking only if I had to. I was the shy kid. Stoicism protected me from hurt. It took the destruction of my personal world for me to come out of this self-made shell. And let me tell you, it hasn’t been easy. But let me take you on a trip down memory lane, catch you up on what you’ve missed.
October 11, 2015. A benign day incurring a benign injury, or so I thought. A fall off a skateboard. What’s the worst that could happen? Four weeks later, I was diagnosed with Complex Regional Pain Syndrome, a disorder of the nervous system characterised by intense pain and frequently, immobility. Four months later, I couldn’t walk or even stand. I was forced to use a wheelchair for the following two years. March 1, 2016. I was admitted to the Wilson Rehabilitation Centre, to begin my journey to recovery. Little did I know, the next five months would entail physio, a complete loss of independence and the worst pain I’d ever known. Going in blind, I grossly underestimated the emotional toll it would take on me and my family; my mental health took a turn for the worst. I didn't want to speak at all out of fear of vulnerability and being misunderstood, so I bottled it up. Everything I’d ever known had been stripped from me, talking was painful. Shutting myself off became a coping mechanism, an extremely destructive coping mechanism that helped no one. As time passed, I was forced to speak, to my disdain at the time, but to my gratitude now. No one likes facing their demons, I was no exception. I didn’t realise how cathartic it would be to make my musings known. Often times, opening up isn’t for someone else, it’s for you and that’s okay. Now that I am at a place of greater strength, I have learnt that speaking both publicly and in private helps me work through how I’m feeling. When I speak to the masses, I have to convey my ideas in a way that everyone will understand. I am forced to introspect and rework my ideas, so people identify with it and maybe learn something.
I didn’t realise that maybe I do have something to say until I released a short film competition regarding my experience about a month ago. I encouraged viewership to receive votes, which was scary because this story is so deeply personal. Although it was only 4-and-a-half-minutes long, the depth of its impact was more profound than I ever could have imagined. Many have approached me since its release telling me of its influence on them or spilling their hearts to me. I learnt that people respect genuine vulnerability, which was an incredibly powerful and humbling lesson for me to learn. I have extracted the positive from something painfully negative. I realised that this thing, vulnerability, that I had feared for my whole life, was the key to unlocking my inner strength.
All of this happened because I gained enough courage, with the help of those around me, to speak. I know that without sharing, both in public and private, I would not be where I am today. Nothing progresses in this world if not for communication, as it is conversation that makes the world go ‘round. Humans were made to talk and to touch, to interact and to debate. I feel the magic of real-life interaction is being trumped by the convenience of the internet. The importance of face-to-face communication is truly under-estimated in a society of instantaneous virtual exchanges. No tweet can ever replace the relief of confiding in someone. In saying this, I understand why so many adolescents chose the internet over people. It is so much easier to send my friend a quick text than talking to them in person. Online, I am in control of any situation I put myself in and my responses. My true authenticity falters. Many often forget the relief of just talking, about the benign and beastly. But why do we communicate? Why is it so scary, but so important?
Communication has evolved since the inception of our earliest ancestors, from grunts and gestures to complex sentences full of life and abstract ideas. We’re more sophisticated, but we’re also not. Sometimes we like to think we’re above feeling, but we’re not. Although the way in which talk may have changed and will continue to do so, the essence of the human condition remains constant. We communicate to share information and insights, to express ourselves and develop connections with others. We communicate because no one can do life on their own. We ask questions because we’re curious. We shout because we’re angry. We cry because we’re sad. We feel because we’re human, so occasionally we should let others in. Conversing can be one of the scariest acts, but also one of the bravest. Lack of openness is born from a place of fear of judgement. Sometimes we are inhibited in what we say because we don’t want to look bad or cause hurt. Of course, tactfulness is important, but we all have something to say, so we should begin to take the steps towards saying it.
Brene Brown once said, “Vulnerability is the birthplace of innovation, creativity and change.” Democracy was built upon the principle of conversation. New Zealand is a country where we have the freedom to speak with might and vigour, some countries aren’t privy to such luxuries. It is a powerful tool wielded recklessly or taken for granted by many. Societal progress isn’t made by sticking to the status quo, it is those who speak out that create the change we want to see. “I have a dream.” Martin Luther King’s words have transcended generations, their relevance ringing true today. How did this household name reach such a stature? By speaking. Ultimately it cost him his life. But, it is because of people like him that every day we move closer to fulfilling that dream.
When I speak and listen to others, I find that I have more in common with those around me than I first anticipate. Discovering my vulnerability has given me the courage to speak up and mean it. Vulnerability is not something tangible you can get, it is found through self-exploration, awareness and acceptance. I challenge you to be vulnerable with someone, whatever that means for you. Tell them you love them, share something that scared you today. Speaking can be so scary, but is it so important, for the development of ourselves, our friends and the world. Communication is a gift, never forget that.
- Miller
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