On What We Choose to Share

“Heal out loud. Remind someone they’re not alone.”

I believe in the power of naming what is often kept quiet.
In offering language for experiences people carry silently.
In honoring growth without toxic positivity.
In making room for honesty.

And still, I get nervous when I share something vulnerable.

Sometimes I post a piece I have spent time with,
writing carefully and editing intentionally,
and almost immediately feel the urge to delete it.

A familiar wave of doubt follows.
Is this too much?
Does it sound disingenuous or cheesy?
Does sharing this seem self-centered?

I have come to recognize that this fear is not a contradiction of what I believe.
It is part of it.

For many of us, fear of judgment grew out of moments where honesty felt risky,
where vulnerability was met with discomfort,
where taking up space was not an option.

So we learned to question ourselves before others could,
even when our intentions were thoughtful
and our words carefully chosen.

Still, that old fear lingers.
The instinct to pull back.
To second-guess.
To erase.

Lately, I have been reminding myself that practicing what I preach means including myself in the permission I offer others.
It means healing out loud while learning to trust my own judgment.
It means sharing with intention to help create spaces that feel honest and safe.

I do not think sharing vulnerability will ever be fearless.
But perhaps it can be enough to be thoughtful and intentional.

Perhaps we can learn to sit with the discomfort vulnerability creates,
and remind ourselves that discomfort does not always mean something is wrong.
Often, it means something matters deeply to us.

The more we care, the more we risk being hurt or misunderstood.

Healing out loud is not about being confident and unafraid.
It is about choosing connection over fear.