What Inspired Me this Week

I am inspired by people who do things that I don’t necessarily aspire to do but appreciate the grit and fortitude it takes to attempt and accomplish those things. Such as attempts at running 200 miles and beyond and races that very few people have ever finished. These stories of strength and grit remind me that I can overcome more than I realize and when life gets me down I can always just put one foot in front of the other, keep moving forward and it will all work out.

Last year for the first time, a female competitor finished the infamous Barkley Marathon. It was a historical moment. To give you some perspective on how hard this race is, in the 39 years this race has taken place, only 20 people have ever finished. You don’t have to be a runner to appreciate the enormity of finishing something like this. The full documentary (46 mins) of Jasmin Paris’ finish was released 2 days ago. I highly recommend it, truly inspiring!

The Vulnerability Hangover

I used to think vulnerability was just plain uncomfortable, like my skin was crawling. But that's not entirely true. The act of being vulnerable, actually sharing something real, often feels good. Like, a real release. Sharing worries, sadness, anything weighing me down, or even just having a good cry—it's surprisingly relieving.

Opening up about mental struggles to someone I trust? That's where it really hits home. You feel less alone, seen and heard. And in the moment being vulnerable is easy. It's like finally setting down the emotional armor and just...feeling. Cleansing.

But then there's the aftermath, what I like to call the 'vulnerability hangover.' A few hours later, or even the next day, when the emotions settle, you get this icky feeling. It usually hits when someone who saw you being vulnerable asks, "Are you okay?" or "How are you doing?"

And it all floods back. Then the self-doubt kicks in. Feeling weak, like they're just pitying you. "They feel sorry for me," or “They no longer see me as being strong,” you think. And suddenly, you regret opening up. You wish you hadn't dropped the guard. Because now they've seen you, really seen you—human, with flaws and the need for connection. Society tells you that's weakness, but honestly? Being vulnerable is where real connection happens.

It's just dealing with the after-effects that's tough. It's that moment where you realize you've allowed someone to see the parts of yourself you've been conditioned to hide, and the fear that comes with that exposure. It's the struggle to reconcile the relief of being seen with the discomfort of being exposed. It's the challenge of learning to accept that vulnerability isn't a sign of weakness, but a necessary part of being human, even when the echoes of that vulnerability linger.

And you know, even now, as I'm about to put this out there to you, I feel a little of that familiar vulnerability hangover. There's that urge to unsend it, the whisper of regret for sharing these inner thoughts. But the more I write and share, the more I am finding a resilience to the discomfort.

So, to you, if you recognize any of this in yourself, give yourself permission to be gentle. Allow yourself the space to feel those post-vulnerability jitters. Remind yourself that you were brave, not weak. And know that with each act of vulnerability, you're building a stronger, more authentic version of yourself. Your feelings are valid, and your humanity is beautiful, even in its most exposed moments. Keep showing up, keep feeling, and keep being you.

From my heart to yours,

Keli💚