Vulnerability and the "Art" of Worrying

Vulnerability is not just an antidote to worry; it’s a pathway to confidence and peace.

“Worrying is like a rocking chair; it gives you something to do, but it gets you nowhere.”

--Glenn Turner

Worry is a family trait I know well. My grandmother was a perpetual worrier, and that tendency filtered down through my father to me, though lessened somewhat. My mom was also a worrier, so I got a bit of a double whammy. Worry, for many of us, feels like preparation—a way to anticipate and control the uncertainties of the future. Yet, as Oliver Burkeman astutely writes in Meditations for Mortals, worry is "the activity of a mind attempting to picture every single bridge that might possibly have to be crossed in the future, then trying to figure out how to cross it." It’s a mental treadmill, exhausting and ultimately unproductive. What I have learned is that the antidote to this relentless cycle is vulnerability—accepting that we cannot control everything and trusting in our capacity to face the unknown.

Burkeman offers another liberating insight: "Just because certainty about the future is off the table, though, it doesn't mean you can't feel confident in your ability to deal with the future when it eventually does arrive." This is where vulnerability plays a pivotal role. Embracing vulnerability means acknowledging that life is unpredictable and that worrying about every possible outcome won’t prevent challenges. It’s a declaration of faith in ourselves—that whatever comes our way, we will face it as best we can—and that will need to be good enough. This shift from control to acceptance is quite liberating, as I discuss in my book Large and In Charge No More: A Journey to Vulnerable Leadership.

Marcus Aurelius, in his timeless classic Meditations, offers additional wisdom on this topic: "Never let the future disturb you. You will meet it, if you have to, with the same weapons of reason which today arm you against the present." These words are a useful reminder that we already possess the tools to handle whatever lies ahead. Worry, then, is not a reflection of preparedness but of fear. Vulnerability, on the other hand, is a courageous acknowledgment of life’s uncertainties and a commitment to navigate them with the strength and reason we already have.

This perspective doesn’t mean dismissing planning or preparation; those are vital aspects of living responsibly. But there’s a difference between proactive planning and paralyzing worry. Planning acknowledges uncertainty while trusting in one’s ability to adapt. Worry, however, seeks to eliminate uncertainty altogether—a futile endeavor. Vulnerability bridges the gap, allowing us to prepare where we can and let go where we cannot. It’s a balanced approach that fosters resilience rather than anxiety.

In the end, vulnerability is not just an antidote to worry; it’s a pathway to confidence and peace. By accepting that we cannot control every bridge we may have to cross, we free ourselves from the burden of constant anticipation. We can focus instead on living fully in the present, trusting that the same strength we apply to today’s challenges will be there for tomorrow’s, if they arise. Vulnerability is not about giving up control; it’s about embracing life’s uncertainties with grace and courage. And in doing so, we find that we are far more equipped to meet the future than our worries would have us believe.