The power of vulnerability is something I’ve understood instinctively for most of my life, even before I had the words for it. When I first started writing what would eventually become my blog posts, I wasn’t thinking about building a blog or growing an audience. I was just trying to make sense of everything I was going through.
Writing became a steady place to process. A place to say the things that didn’t quite fit into a dinner party conversation. A place where I could be vulnerable – not because I was trying to be brave or bold – but because it’s always been natural for me.
I grew up in a household where openness was the norm. My mum especially is an open book, and I’ve always appreciated that. It made talking about real things feel normal, human and connected. Stepping out into the world and realising not everyone was like that was more confronting than vulnerability ever was.
As I got older, though, I started to understand how much the world teaches us to hold things back.
We learn to keep things surface-level. We learn what’s “appropriate” to share. We learn how to show up in ways that make others comfortable, even if it means silencing our own truth. Especially in professional settings – and especially, I’ve found, for women – there’s pressure to appear capable, composed, and endlessly accommodating.
And in that pressure, vulnerability starts to feel risky.
Why I Started Writing in the First Place
In the middle of a difficult time, I needed a place to put what I was feeling. A space where I didn’t have to censor myself or explain everything perfectly. Life had become busy, and many of my friendships existed mostly in group dinners, parties, and quick check-ins. There was little room for deeper conversations.
I was fortunate to have access to an Employee Assistance Program therapist and a BetterUp coach through work – and I used both. But even then, I noticed how carefully I had to divide my thoughts. I’d avoid talking about therapy topics with my coach, and I’d try not to use therapy time for things I could handle elsewhere. Vulnerability had to be categorised and time-boxed.
So I wrote.
At first, it was just an outlet. But the more I wrote, the more I realised the power of vulnerability lies not just in what it allows us to release – but in what it allows others to feel.
The Power of Vulnerability at Work
One of the most defining experiences I’ve had with vulnerability was through the Mental Health Matters community at work. After my burnout, I eventually found the clarity to map myself across the 12 stages of burnout. I wasn’t healed, but I was healing. And when I decided to share that journey in the community – not polished, not perfect – the response was overwhelming.
I received messages from colleagues around the world. People who had been struggling in silence, who suddenly felt seen. People who didn’t have the language for what they were going through until they heard someone else say it out loud.
Every time we ran a mental health session after that, the feedback was clear: the real stories were the most powerful part. It wasn’t the data or theory that stayed with people – it was the honesty.
Looking back, the power of vulnerability in that community changed the way I think about mental health advocacy.
That’s why I use lived experience when I write and speak about mental health – because it’s what people connect with.
Going Public (And Why LinkedIn Was the Hardest)
Facebook felt like a natural first step – it’s mostly friends, people who know me. Instagram, Threads and TikTok were a little more anonymous. I could share parts of myself without it feeling too exposed.
But LinkedIn? That was different.
It took me four months of blogging before I found the courage to post about What Burnout Felt Like for Me on LinkedIn. And when I finally hit “publish,” I felt exposed. Like maybe I’d shared too much. Like maybe people would judge me.
And maybe they did.
But here’s the thing: I’m not naming companies or individuals. I’m not venting or blaming. I’m sharing facts, feelings, and reflections – because that’s the most constructive form of vulnerability there is.
And when I started receiving private messages from people who resonated deeply with what I’d shared, I knew I’d done the right thing.
The Silent Readers Are Often the Ones Who Need It Most
Not everyone comments or reacts when they feel something. I know there are people who have read my posts, felt seen, and simply kept scrolling. And that’s ok.
But it’s also why I keep going.
Often, the people who don’t say anything are the ones who need your vulnerability the most. They might be suffering in silence. They might not have the words. But they’re paying attention.
That’s part of the power of vulnerability. You don’t always see the impact straight away, but it can still land exactly where it’s needed.
Vulnerability Helps Us Find Ourselves
There’s another part of this that I didn’t expect – but now, I count on it.
Being vulnerable makes me more self-aware, and it makes me stronger.
Every time I write honestly, I learn something about myself. I hear what still hurts. I understand what I’ve grown through. I see patterns I hadn’t noticed before. I get to see who I really am, without all the performing or pleasing.
But it’s not just about clarity – it’s also about resilience.
Sharing my story doesn’t make me feel weaker or exposed. Over time, it’s helped me stand taller. It’s helped me feel more grounded in who I am. And that might be the most important thing the power of vulnerability offers us: a way back to ourselves, and the strength to stay there.
Final Thoughts: Stronger, Not Weaker
Vulnerability is often misunderstood as weakness. If you’ve come across Brené Brown’s work, you’ll know she’s been talking about this for years. Here’s her well known Ted Talk about it.
Vulnerability is not weakness; it’s our greatest measure of courage. – Brené Brown
It takes strength to be real. It takes courage to share your story, especially when it’s raw. And it takes compassion – both for yourself and for others – to speak your truth in a way that invites connection, not just reaction.
No, you don’t have to share everything with the world. Not everyone needs to blog about their burnout or open up on LinkedIn. But we do need more people telling the truth. We need more of us willing to say, “Here’s what helped me.”
Because when we do, we remind others they’re not alone.
And in a world that often teaches us to hide, vulnerability can help us find our way back to ourselves.
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