Turtle Shells
An Essay on Vulnerability
Did you know that turtles aren’t in their shell? They actually are their shell. They actually have nerve endings in their shells and can feel the slightest touch. I’ve used the phrase before, “I feel like a turtle retreating back into it’s shell” as if that action is, in some way, removing me from the potential pain of a situation or from the vulnerability of my surroundings.
When I was a kid, I remember hearing on many occasions that I was too sensitive. I let things people said, or my thoughts, or relationships all the way in and was deeply affected by them. My grandmother would say I was her sensitive grand child, always wearing my heart on my sleeve…
Over time, I think I learned, either by the critique or by the pain, to retreat more into my shell, to cut off access to my affectedness, as best as a sensitive person can. The illusion, of course, is that protecting myself from my feelings would mean protecting myself from pain, but like the turtle shell, it never really works. What happened instead is that while ignoring my pain, I developed an anxiety disorder. Maybe pain, like energy, doesn’t just go away, but it can be transformed.
This isn’t a case to be without a shell. To be fair, the shell is an important defense mechanism for the turtle. It can keep them from dying, but not from the pain of living. And maybe that’s the point. My sensitivity is worth protecting. There are people that have earned the right to hear and hold my feelings. And there are people that won’t have access to that. But the truth, and the work, is to not close myself off to my own feelings while I’m protecting them from others; feeling my feelings while transforming the pain into the fertile material of a life well lived. And that is hard work. And it is good work.