So far, this blog has been an amazing thing. Its purpose is very personal to me. Team TATE is my way of showing who I am, sharing it with others, and holding myself to my own expectations. This is my journey from my darkest times to radiant light to anything imaginable and more. It’s similar to some of the social experiments I studied in college. Basically, we try something and see what happens, see how people respond, and from that we can understand patterns of human behavior. Maybe, we can even predict, preempt, or facilitate human behavior. So, what am I trying here?

One of the most amazing mentors I’ve had to date said to me, “Start to change your life, and be that change. Live it everyday, let people see it, and then watch what happens.” The problem is “being the change” is much easier said than done. Changing your life is very hard, but even more challenging is the fear that comes along with broadcasting it. We fear change. It creates instability, vulnerability, and discomfort. Even when we are moving from a negative situation to something more positive, we are still moving from something that we’ve become accustomed to, somewhere we are comfortable, a place that is predictable, and we are forcing ourselves into the unknown. Fear can immediately halt a movement. It’s a barrier that can stop you in your tracks and send you for the hills. F-E-A-R: Forget Everything And Run.

But, what if, instead of allowing fear to halt our movement, we instead force fear to fuel it? I’ll be honest, this blog and my incessant commitment to broadcast the new me is, on a very real level, terrifying. The fear relates to being vulnerable. In the first few days, I wondered if this was too much for me. Even after the first post, I asked what I had gotten myself into, because now I was formally and publicly committed. However, I heard my mentor in my head: “be the change…and then watch what happens.” Here’s what I’ve learned:

People like vulnerability, especially when it is real and honest. It makes people feel like they are not alone. Vulnerability is a feeling that we all know very well, but often may assume that others don’t feel its potentially paralyzing effect. We jump to the conclusion that others must be stronger than us, built differently, or not affected by the same things we are; so we do our best to keep our vulnerability silenced to appear the same. Yet, while we take great pains to hide our vulnerability, we often reach out and comfort those who let it show. We support our friends who we know are going through a hard time. We comfort someone who is crying. We offer someone strength when we see they are falling apart. And we love someone harder when we think they feel broken and alone. In fact, when we see someone overcome these obstacles, when we actually witness someone live through their vulnerability and come out stronger, we are overjoyed, in awe, inspired. It makes sense then, that once we figure out how to just be vulnerable, we will receive that same love, comfort, strength, and support in return. We will leave people overjoyed. People will be in awe. We will inspire.

I’ve been lucky enough to experience this firsthand even in just the last couple months. A couple quick stories come to mind, although there are probably many. The first occurred on my way back down a mountain after a very strenuous hike. I was still over a mile from the bus and confused about how there were still inclines on the way down. I had been hiking for hours, I was hot and thirsty, and I had run out of calories a long time ago. Keep in mind, I was never a hiker, and on this particular day, I weighed upwards of 380 pounds. I wasn’t sure I could take another step, so I stopped and bent over at the waist, my hands hard on my knees, chest aggressively reacting to my gasps for air, and my heart beating in my eardrums. I knew people were walking up the trail, and normally I would try to act fine, as if a hike up a mountain was an everyday thing for me, but I couldn’t. I didn’t have the energy to care what these real hikers thought of me. Then it happened. What kept me going and actually got me to the bus was the encouragement of a complete stranger. As she passed she said, “you’re doing good, you’re almost there, keep going.” She never would have said that if I sucked it up for 20 more seconds and let her pass assuming I was just fine. It was my vulnerability that created her encouragement that led to me completing a 6-mile hike at 380 pounds.

The second story is one that I wasn’t even aware of until after it happened. This past weekend was the first Team TATE event (more on this later). I was very nervous, largely because I was hosting something I had never hosted before. I wanted it to be a representation of what Team TATE is all about, but that meant I had to speak, give directions, give insight, and share my journey with people I deeply respect and want to make proud. Overall, it was a success. I put myself out there in ways I hadn’t ever before, learned a lot, and left room for improvement next time. Afterwards, I learned that one of my dear friends had been having a very hard week. She had fallen off plan temporarily, struggled with some anger, and somewhat retreated into herself instead of reaching out. When asked how she was able to get back on track, she said it was the Team TATE event, specifically being with positive people who cared for and supported her. So, in the end, our vulnerabilities collided into each other and we both walked away with personal accomplishment.

Ultimately, I’m diving into fear, embracing vulnerability, slowly sharing where I’ve been, where I am, and where I’m going, and inviting you to join along with your own transformation. This isn’t licensed advice. This is just human experience. I am not a professional therapist, trainer, life coach, medical doctor, or nutritionist. Nor do I currently have any letters after my name that instill immediate knowledge and confidence, unless me being an attorney somehow speaks to your internal struggle, which it shouldn’t. The point is, I am just human. I have experienced things in my life just as all of you have. Some good, some bad, some amazing, some terrible, but all worthy of their respective time slots in my past. And all a very integral part of my future. My commitment is to continue to force my fear of vulnerability to fuel my transformation. To be vulnerable, I’ve learned, is very powerful. So, embrace your power.