Oversharing or Vulnerability?

I used to overshare and call it openness.

I’d share very personal things about myself, disclosing details of my experiences or things I had done without holding anything back and I labeled it vulnerable. Afterward, I would feel really lonely. With time, personal reflection, therapy, meditation, and a lot of other inside work and exploration, I discovered that what I was doing wasn’t vulnerability at all.

Instead, it was a kind of defense mechanism I used to avoid the actual experience and discomfort that real vulnerability and intimacy can bring. When we are actually vulnerable, we open ourselves to a chance of injury, and we are conscious and aware of that, which is part of why it can be scary. What I was doing was the opposite. I’d lay it all out, usually early in friendships or romantic relationships, to avoid rejection later on. And then if the other person “couldn’t handle it,” I had the evidence I needed to prove to myself (and whoever else was listening), that I was just “too much” for most people. What I was doing came from a place of fear and anxiety, not from a place of willingness to grow intimately and connect with another.

So what is the difference? What makes something truly vulnerable?

Boundaries.

Learning how to set boundaries for myself and others, and then going on to respect those boundaries, was the very beginning of my relationship with real intimacy and connection to other people. And it’s probably no surprise that developing that relationship to intimacy began within me, but I’ll come back to this.

What does vulnerability without boundaries look like?

For me, the purpose of vulnerability is to connect authentically. It’s about being and feeling seen. It might mean sharing parts of myself that have been difficult to accept, or just letting myself cry while watching a sad movie with someone. It may also show up as sharing myself more authentically in a fun way, like laughing with someone until my stomach cramps. Whether it’s revealing something difficult or joyous, vulnerability leads to connection.

My oversharing usually presented itself as a dump of information. I imagine myself dumping out a big basket of my underwear on a new friend’s neatly made bed. At first, they might not even know what they’re looking at. They just see a bunch of wrinkled fabric on their bed. After a moment or two, they realize that their bed is covered in my underwear, and they might be thinking, wait, is that clean or dirty? ugh, I didn’t say that was OK, or I don’t know this person well enough to feel comfortable with all of their dirty laundry on my bed, or even, am I supposed to help them clean this up? Then, as quickly as I dumped it out, I start throwing it all back in the basket, as if it never happened.

There’s an ability to hide in oversharing. It’s like deciding to perform a new song, but doing it knowing there’s an ambulance, fire alarm, and police siren all going off at the exact same time and in the same room.

How boundaries and time lead to real vulnerability

One of my motives for oversharing was this deep desire to be intimate with other people. I was desperate for close relationships but the fear of it never happening (or not happening soon enough) had me rush through the incredibly important steps it takes to actually create that with another and within myself. This is where a lot of work had to be done.

When it came to boundaries, I first had to start respecting my own. I thought for a long time that crossing my own boundaries would make other people feel important to me. An easy example of this was telling guys that I didn’t have casual sex, meaning I only slept with people I was in committed relationships with. Then, after a few dates and without a conversation about commitment or where the relationship stood, I’d sleep with them. Afterward, I’d say something like, “I don’t usually do this, I just really like you.” These relationships usually didn’t go much further than this, but more importantly, I would be left feeling betrayed by myself.

This example is about sex but it’s still about oversharing. It includes giving someone a part of myself I’m not actually ready to share, without knowing if they’re ready to receive it with care. The effect of these actions is that feeling of loneliness I mentioned earlier, as well as a feeling of not being able to trust myself.

When I started respecting my own boundaries, I witnessed my relationship with myself shift dramatically. I became a woman I could trust. I was a friend to myself and a good one. I started to notice that this solid foundation of trust I had built within myself made it possible for other people to trust me. Slowly over time, I began developing strong relationships. I did the things I said I was going to do, and so did the people in my life. Witnessing all of this made it possible to build trust, which led to real opportunities for vulnerability.

Now when I open up to someone it is with myself in mind. It’s also understanding that if they are not ready to hear what I have to share, they will tell me because they have boundaries too.

Even though it can still be uncomfortable and scary to open up to people today, I don’t feel that sense of loneliness afterward. I think part of this is because I have boundaries about what I share and with whom. Most of the people in my life have the capacity to receive what I’m revealing with a lot of care and compassion these days too. But it’s also because I have a strong relationship with myself. I’m no longer left feeling betrayed by myself, or lonely in my own company.

Things take time and I’m definitely not perfect

I just want to wrap this up by saying a few important things.

Time is a tool. I have to remind myself of that often.

These kinds of changes don’t happen overnight and they don’t happen in this clean or perfect way. Growth is messy, hard, and rewarding. One of the lessons I continue to learn (especially when it comes to things like boundaries, vulnerability, and intimacy) is that there’s always space to learn more and it’s ok if it takes a while.

This kind of stuff is about progress, not perfection and it’s meant to be approached one day at a time.