Corneille is a
young singer born in Rwanda. I read his statement on the massacre of his family
in Africa, his escape to Germany and then to Canada, until he
established himself in France, where he became a great success
(Psychologies magazine, dec.2009). However, what most got to me was his
affirmation “It’s liberating to realize your own complexity. Even if it’s
extremely painful.” He says this while telling how he spent a long time
hiding from himself and from everyone around him, believing that he was a
survivor, someone “successful.” When feeling confused and lost by the continual
assertion of Sophie – the woman he fell in love with – that he denied his
experience of suffering, Corneille looked for psychotherapy. It was through
this process that he found the value ofbeing in touch with his inner self and his former experiences of
losses and grief. “Talking, searching and confronting
experiences, even when it was very painful, I regained life and found out
freedom,” he said.
I believe that
the psychotherapy process as it is, a process that includes being deeply in
touch with one’s inner self, is very difficult for everybody, and mostly for
men. Why is it so? Because it is there implied theexperience of vulnerability. There is a widespread belief among men that
vulnerability is synonym with weakness. And weakness is the “big ghost hunter,” the antithesis
of masculinity when understood as “strength”, “resistance”, “hardness”, and
“authority”. And then, to answer to this distorted notion of maleness, men pay
a high price: not to feel. While repressing feelings of
pain, sadness, loss, “tiredness of life,” disappointment, fear of loving and so
many others, men prevent contact (and expression) of good feelings, such as joy
and genuine pleasures. As Corneille has said about himself, under these
circumstances, people will live under masks. And I, myself, believe: they
become the so
Male vulnerability
In reality, being vulnerable also means
finding the courage to be sincere, open and honest. Many times it means to be
open to what other people tell you. Therefore, through dialogue and sharing
experiences, we may find out that we are able to change our behavior,
opinions and attitudes that until the present moment of life led to conflicts
rather than to the satisfaction of needs, or to pleasure and fulfillment.
Being vulnerable to people you love or appreciate, to what life brings to you,
of good or bad, and to the many
experiences that occur throughout time, doesn’t mean in any way to be drifting
or that other people will have immeasurable power over you. Being
vulnerable just means letting in what comes from others, allowing it to
resonate within us and then, express it with our own voice to the world.
Nevertheless, in order to do this, we need to put aside any belief that the
other person is inherently an enemy. And even if they happen to be, we must be
confident that we have resources to deal with the situation.
Is there really
a relationship between living the psychotherapy process and the experience of
vulnerability? Yes there is. Is it risky? Yes, like every worthwhile
relationship. Despite being protected by the commitment of confidentiality,
professional ethics and the usually extensive background of the
psychotherapist, this relationship is not immune of risks. Not only the risk of
the emotional deep touch with yourself but also with the limitations (always
possible) of the professional. And why even so is it worthwhile? Because then
you can experience the ultimate achievement in psychotherapy (and in life?):
“freedom,” as Corneille has said. Mental health is fundamentally the exercise
of freedom. In freedom, choices are clearly unfolded and the
choice of owning human vulnerability brings with it the bold joy of
surrendering.

