The Power of Being Seen: How Vulnerability Became My SUPERPOWER

By: Rikke Alderson

Vulnerability. It’s not just a word—it’s a battleground. It’s that gut-wrenching feeling when you know that showing up as you really are means risking it all. But for some of us, that fight didn’t start in a therapist’s office or during a late-night heart-to-heart. It started in childhood, when being seen felt like the most dangerous thing you could do.

For me, growing up meant survival. It was a weird kind of normal to live in a house where we stopped locking the doors because we couldn’t afford another broken window. Robbery became routine, just like the bougainvillea outside our patio that would tear through anyone who dared come too close. I slept with my head just inches from our back door, always half-waiting for the next break-in. It wasn’t just scary to be alive—it was terrifying. And somewhere deep inside that little girl, I learned that the only way to protect myself was to be “perfect.” If I held it together, no one would see how broken everything really was.

So, I tried to be perfect. I learned to walk the line. I was the girl who spoke two languages, who kept things light and funny so no one would ever see the fear simmering underneath. But the truth is, even when you think you’re hiding it all, someone sees you. For me, that moment came when my father looked at me—really looked at me—and said, “Sweet Rikke, everything doesn’t have to be okay.” The irony of that moment hit me like a freight train—he was the biggest reason I was always scrambling to make everything okay.

I spent years being the “good girl,” the one who had it all together because it was the only way I knew how to stay safe. But at some point, it starts to crack. You can only hold up that mask for so long. In my 20s, I was still the girl trying to be enough for everyone else, trying to fit a mold that would make people love me—or at least, not look too closely at the chaos underneath. But something happened as I got older: the cracks became too big to hide. And that’s when I learned the truth no one tells you—there’s power in letting people see your mess.

Vulnerability isn’t just about telling people your secrets or showing your scars. It’s about standing in your truth, even when it feels like the most terrifying thing in the world. I didn’t understand that at first. I didn’t know that by dropping the act, I could actually connect with people in a way that mattered. I didn’t know that by showing up, flaws and all, I’d find my real strength.

Every stage of my life has been a lesson in being vulnerable. From that scared little girl who thought she had to be perfect to survive, to the young woman who realized that being "perfect" was killing her slowly, to the woman I am today, who knows that vulnerability isn’t weakness—it’s my superpower.

When you’ve lived through enough fear, you learn that trying to be “okay” all the time is the real lie. Vulnerability is what gets you through, what helps you breathe, what reminds you that you're not alone. It took me decades to get here, to realize that being seen is the only way to actually live.

So today, I sit with that little girl who didn’t know how to let go, who thought running and being “good” was the only way to stay safe. I take a breath for her. I meditate. I lean on others. And I know—finally—that I’m not alone. Vulnerability is terrifying, yes. But it’s also where the freedom lives.

VULNERABILITY PLAYBOOK:

• In your 20s (still a baby but you think you got this all figured out. You don't): Be willing to say, “I don’t have it all figured out.” It doesn’t make you less, it makes you more. I was and boy was it messy and trying on all the outfits in the dressing room.
• In your 30s (Finding a groove and still got lots to learn): Own your failures. Stop trying to package them up as “learning moments” and just let them be. I learned but I also wallowed but it was part of the process.
• In your 40s (Pretending its all good and you got this whole life thing, that marriage thing (or not), the baby thing (or not) but always seeming like you do: Share your story. You’ve been through hell and back, and there’s someone out there who needs to hear that they’re not alone. There are women & men alike who don't yet know how to remember they are not alone in this, so we have to share it out...LOUD!!!
• In your 50s (The ultimate mess, the stuff has changed, your family has shifted, your parents are getting old and who are you without your career vibes): Embrace the mess. Boy is she changing and becoming a different "superhero" of imperfection. Alas...Perfection is boring. Vulnerability is where all the beauty hides & all the crap you neglected in our body, yellow bloody murder.
• In your 60s and beyond (hell if i know but...it's on tap soon enough): Not there yet but a girl can dream. Just find love, be love, embrace love, adventure toward your life's love. Breathe and enjoy. Be stunningly you, with your flaws and all and find your life, be your life.

Vulnerability isn’t a one-time decision—it’s a commitment, a daily practice. It’s those baby steps toward becoming who you’re meant to be. And no, it doesn’t always happen on your timeline. Sometimes it’s slow and painful, sometimes it’s quick and messy. But it’s always worth it.

So here I am, deeply flawed and fully alive. I’m not perfect. I’ve never been perfect. But today, I know that being seen—truly seen—means embracing all of it. The fear, the cracks, the flaws. That’s where your power lies. It’s not about being “okay.” It’s about being real. And real is the only way I want to live.

More thoughts to come y'all,

Rikke ?? ?? ??