By Jocelyn Lovelle

I write a weekly Substack and as of today, I’ve written 101 posts over the past two years. 

I have an overarching content plan, and even so, sometimes I don’t know the path my writing will take or how to say what I want to say, and I must balance sharing too much of my personal life while sharing enough that my posts resonate deeply. 

There’s a difference between connective vulnerability and performative vulnerability. With connective vulnerability, we’re reaching out, a little tender, a little unveiled, because we want to help ourselves and others feel not so alone. Performative vulnerability overshares on a personal subject for the aim of generating admiration and likes, comments, popularity or revenue. 

Connective vulnerability may garner some of the same results, but the energy and intention behind it are different, which means the results themselves are different. The people you resonate with, the ones who want to connect with you, are in alignment with your values, rather than your image.

When you engage in heartfelt communication, you invite people into your world who want to support you, not people who are only impressed with you. 

A friendship of mine ended recently. It was abrupt, unexpected, and hurtful. As I unpacked what might have been done to save it and what I could have done differently, I discovered something I hadn’t seen before. This friend was trained as a fine art painter though she never pursued painting professionally or privately. Two years ago, on a whim, I decided to enter some of my mixed-media collage pieces in an open call for a local art gallery’s holiday exhibit. This is not a fine art gallery, but a quirky, funky, open-to-everyone type of gallery. Four of my pieces were accepted and I ended up selling a piece. It was fun and exciting, and I was delighted to connect with the gallery owner, the other artists, and the patrons. I had no intention of taking this success any further. I had just wanted to be a part of something in my community. 

Soon after, this friend started painting again and hired an agent. She was often too busy for coffee or lunch. At an event, with several shared acquaintances, I overheard her saying people who aren’t trained as artists shouldn’t be able to just hang their art up anywhere and sell it. It was hard enough, she went on, to make it as a working fine artist and the waters shouldn’t be muddied by people who hadn’t studied like she had. 

I didn’t think much of it at the time. This friend was prone to dramatic statements and loud proclamations. But in hindsight, I think I understand what was happening. I had invited someone into my life who wanted me to be impressed by her, not someone who wanted to be my friend. Our entire relationship had been based on her performative vulnerability, not my heartfelt communication. 

THE RIVER: OUTWARD EXPRESSION

This is a great distinction to understand when we think about our voices, about what we need and want to say to the world. 

There will always be people who think we should do it their way, the old way, the new way, the way that isn’t ours. 

Let me be clear here, reader. The only way to communicate something that connects with others on a soul level is to do it from your heart–and to do it the way that resonates with you. 

This applies to abstract expressionism, to untrained collage-making, to music, and to writing. 

Writing that comes from the heart, that means something to its author, is the writing that moves others to action. 

Because whatever you’re doing on social media or in your newsletter or blog or Substack, you are, at the very core of things, working to create a community of people who want to hear what you have to say, and who want to support you, not just be impressed by you. 

So what does it take to write from the heart? 

Bravery – You must let go of, or at least make friends with, the fear that you’ll offend someone by saying and acting on what you believe in. If what you’re saying doesn’t make at least a few people shake their heads in disagreement, you’re not communicating directly from your heart. You’ve got too much filter. 

Filter – Balance your bravery with not oversharing. Consider only the aspects that need to be shared to make your point and to allow other people to see themselves in your situation. Be open, share real-life experiences, but leave out the drama. Leave out the entirety of the mess. And think about your intention: Connective vulnerability shares something close to your heart, so others feel not so alone. Performative vulnerability shares too much so people only see the author, not themselves. 

Clarity – In order to be brave and know when and what to filter, you need to get clear. 

  • What do you believe in so deeply you could write about it tirelessly?
  • What is the outcome you want from each particular piece of writing?
  • What journey do you want to take your readers on–and where do you want them to end up?

Saying what you want to say in the world requires the willingness to extend ourselves towards discomfort, to seek the truth of what we want to communicate, and to dive into the mess of being human enough to connect with others. It takes a willingness to say what we believe in, even if it might not resonate with everyone. 

When we start to surround ourselves with people who support us (not just those who admire who they think we are) and when we get clear on what we need to talk about and why, we can be effectively heartfelt in our communication with the world–and with ourselves. 

Let’s Talk!