Heartletter - Relationship & Wellness Newsletter
- Issued Twice Yearly -

Spring 2007 Heartletter

“The Importance of Vulnerability”

“The risk to love is the risk to become vulnerable. We can only love if we risk being hurt.” – Risk To Be Healed

Preparing to write this heartletter, I did a search on our website for the word “vulnerability,” to see what we had previously written. I found a few things, but I noticed Google tried to be helpful by including the following reference: “Identify and eliminate security vulnerabilities on your network.” And yes, there are vulnerabilities that you don’t want, like viruses on your computer, identity theft from your trash, or walking into a dark alley in a big city late at night.

Yet, perhaps nowhere is vulnerability more important than in a committed, intimate relationship. To really be in love, two partners need to have access to all of one another’s feelings, to the totality of one another’s souls.

In 1970, Leo Buscaglia loved Joyce. More than being her preceptor in her master’s program at the University of Southern California, he was a spiritual teacher and friend. And through Joyce, I had also felt close to Leo, although most of my time was occupied as a medical student at the same university.

“Whatever she feels is written all over her face,” he used to say to me. “When she’s sad, she cries. When she’s happy, she smiles. When she’s angry, it’s visible. When she’s at peace, her face is relaxed.” Then, with sometimes brutal honesty, he’d say to me, “Sometimes I don’t know what you’re feeling. You can smile when you’re angry, or look peaceful when you’re sad. So I can’t trust your smile or your peaceful appearance. Stop being phoney, Barry!”

He was right, albeit blunt. I was hiding my sadness, anger, fear, pain, and every other emotion I considered unpleasant, including my human emotional need for Joyce, and for love in general. I had learned all my life, as many of us have, to cover up and ignore these unpopular feelings which I believed would betray my weakness. I tried to only show my strength, happiness and caring.

After having an affair to try to prove (mostly to myself) that I didn’t need Joyce, my life collapsed. Joyce left our apartment and the marriage and I was alone – with my feelings. And up to the surface they came – agonizing pain, an aching hole of sadness in my heart. I was shocked and surprised by the intensity of these feelings.

After enduring the agony for a few days, I knew I needed to see Leo. Our apartment was a few houses down the street from his, in the Highland Park suburb of Los Angeles. I slumped up to his door and knocked. Leo came out and looked at me inquisitively. Completely devoid of self-pride, I blurted out my despair, my face and tears finally matching my inner pain. Leo studied me until I finished blubbering. Then, to my utter surprise, a giant smile lit up his face and he grabbed me in one of his famous hugs. While squeezing me, he excitedly spoke, “Barry, you’re finally real … you’re finally real!!”

Although in that moment I didn’t share his rejoicing, I knew he was right. I was no longer pretending not to have pain. And it did feel good to finally let my feelings out, and be comforted by another human being – and a very loving one.