Rethinking My Weaknesses
December always brings with it a certain softness—a quieting of pace, a glow in windows, an invitation to look inward as the year exhales. It feels like the right moment to begin something new, something honest. And so today, I’m beginning a series I’ve been needing to write for a long time:
Rethinking My Weaknesses.
Why I’m Beginning This Series
Over the past year, I’ve become increasingly aware of the parts of myself I instinctively label as flaws—the behaviors I feel ashamed of, the habits I wish I could snap my fingers and fix, the emotional patterns I sigh at and think, “I should be past this by now.”
But through deeper healing work, reflection, and one-too-many moments of self-honesty, I’ve come to realize something surprising:
Most of my “weaknesses” were once protections.
They were the skills younger me developed to stay safe, to avoid disappointment, to survive environments that offered more pressure than support. They were intelligent, adaptive responses to pain or fear.
And because they worked, I kept them.
Even now, long after they stopped serving me.
This series is my attempt to return to those patterns with curiosity instead of shame, compassion instead of judgment. I want to understand:
- Where each “weakness” came from
- What it protected in me
- How it limits me now as an adult, mother, partner, counselor, and woman
- And how healing asks me to soften rather than self-condemn
Some topics I’ll explore include: difficulty receiving support, boundary guilt, emotional over-responsibility, hyper-independence, money-related fear, perfectionism, and the pressure to never disappoint anyone. These aren’t defects—they are echoes of past versions of me who carried far too much alone.
This is not a series about self-criticism.
It is a series about self-understanding.
A reclamation.
A re-framing.
A gentle unlearning.
And so we begin with the first weakness-that-is-not-really-a-weakness at all:
My difficulty receiving support.
The Tender Art of Receiving
Christmas tends to be portrayed as a season of giving—lists, gifts, generosity, and the constant reminder to pour ourselves outward. But giving has a quieter twin: receiving. And receiving, for me, has always required a courage I’m still learning to hold.
How Difficulty Receiving Once Protected Me
There was a time when depending on others felt dangerous.
Leaning on anyone came with the risk of disappointment, abandonment, or misuse. So I learned to cope by doing everything myself. If I needed nothing, no one could hurt me. If I carried it all, I controlled the outcome.
This self-sufficiency was not a flaw then.
It was a survival strategy—a brilliant one.
How It Limits Me Now
But the armor that protected the girl has become an emotional weight the woman cannot keep lifting.
That instinct to handle everything alone now creates:
- Isolation instead of intimacy
- Exhaustion instead of rest
- Overwhelm instead of connection
- An empty cup I keep trying to refill only through effort
It especially shows up around money—a place where I still equate needing help with weakness, irresponsibility, or some kind of personal failure. It touches the old wound that whispers:
“You should figure it out alone. Other people need more. Don’t be a burden.”
Boundary guilt knots itself into the message—reminding me of all the ways I “should” be stronger, more independent, more capable.
But those messages aren’t truth.
They’re trauma echoes.
The Fear of Being Seen Struggling
When I ask myself:
What would it feel like to let someone truly see me struggle?
My body answers before my mind can.
It feels frightening.
Exposed.
Like someone could one day use my vulnerability against me.
Like struggling in front of someone gives them access to a part of me I’ve spent years protecting.
And yet… that very fear is the doorway to the healing I want.
What Christmas Teaches Us About Receiving
December is a season that symbolizes light coming into darkness, hope arriving where exhaustion lives, and love being offered freely—not earned.
It is, at its core, a season of receiving.
Maybe that is why this topic rises now.
Maybe this time of year is the world gently whispering:
“You don’t always have to be the giver. You’re allowed to be held, too.”
Because receiving is not weakness.
Receiving is trust.
Receiving is intimacy.
Receiving is partnership.
Receiving honors the truth that we heal through relationship—not isolation.
Transforming the Pattern Through Curiosity
Instead of shaming myself for the difficulty, I’m learning to ask softer questions:
- What if letting someone see me struggle is not dangerous but sacred?
- What if allowing support is not a burden but a bridge?
- What if money help, emotional help, practical help… are all forms of partnership, not pity?
Curiosity melts judgment.
Curiosity loosens the armor.
Curiosity reveals that what I call weakness is often wisdom dressed in fear.
A New Affirmation for This Season
This is the truth I am choosing to practice:
“It’s safe to be held. Support is not pity—it’s partnership.”
It is a reminder that I don’t have to be the light for everyone all the time.
Sometimes the bravest thing is to let someone else light the candle.
Well-Stirred Reflection:
Maybe the miracle I need this Christmas doesn’t come wrapped in ribbons.
Maybe it is the quiet courage to let myself need something.
The willingness to receive without bracing.
The openness to let love, support, resources, and care come toward me without apologizing for it.
This first installment is my beginning.
A loosening.
A relearning.
A gentle December invitation to surrender the survival strategy that once saved me—but no longer serves me.
Welcome to Rethinking My Weaknesses.
May we both discover the tenderness, the beauty, and the unexpected strength hidden inside the art of receiving.
Well-Stirred & Wondering 