Today I Choose to be Open – How to be Open

After five years in a relationship that chipped away at me, I had every reason to close my heart. I’d spent years excusing chaos, forgiving betrayals, enabling addictions, and mistaking turbulence for love.

The worst part wasn’t the big betrayals—it was the slow erosion. Each broken promise made me smaller. Each dramatic episode made me quieter. Each “I’ll change” that didn’t made me less believing. By the time it ended, I was raw and exhausted, a shadow of who I’d been.

It would have been easy—even reasonable—to build walls. To decide that “love” wasn’t worth the risk. To protect myself by shutting down.

The Whisper That Changed Everything

But in the middle of that heartbreak, sitting on my apartment floor surrounded by tissues and self-help books, something inside me whispered differently: Don’t close. Stay open.

It made no sense. Everything hurt. Trust felt impossible. The idea of letting anyone close again made my stomach clench. But that whisper persisted.

That’s when I sat down with my journal and wrote two lists: the qualities I longed for in a partner, and the qualities I would need to cultivate in myself to attract that kind of love. It was my first attempt at reimagining love not as drama, but as peace. Not as chaos, but as consistency.

The partner list: Steady. Kind. Drama-free. Emotionally available. Consistent. Trustworthy. Calm in crisis. The self list: Healed enough to recognize health. Strong enough to maintain boundaries. Wise enough to see red flags. Open enough to receive good love.

Then came the test. Not long after, I met Curtis at a work event. He was calm, steady, drama-free—so different from what I was used to that I almost dismissed him. No butterflies. No drama. No chase. Just… ease.

If I had kept my walls up, I would have missed him entirely. “Too boring,” I would have said. “No spark,” I would have decided.

But I stayed open. Slowly, cautiously, vulnerably open.

The Physical Challenge of Staying Open

Openness after heartbreak has a physical component most people don’t talk about:

• The chest vulnerability: Like walking around with no armor, every interaction feeling exposed
• The throat tightness: Before saying vulnerable words, your throat literally closes
• The stomach flutter: Not excitement butterflies, but fear butterflies
• The shoulder tension: From constantly fighting the urge to protect
• The eye contact difficulty: Looking at someone when your instinct is to hide

Those first dates with Curtis, my body was in full protection mode. Shoulders hunched. Arms crossed. Minimal eye contact. My body knew how to be hurt; it didn’t know how to be open.

And that openness changed everything. Eighteen and a half years later, his quiet steadiness is the foundation of the life we’ve built together.

How to Be Open When Everything Says Close

What I’ve learned is this: closing your heart may feel safer, but it also shuts out possibility. Keeping it open is harder, scarier—and infinitely more rewarding. Here’s how to practice openness when your instinct is armor:

Start with Micro-Openings

You don’t have to fling your heart wide open. Start tiny:

• Accept a compliment without deflecting
• Share one true thing in a safe conversation
• Ask for small help (directions, a recommendation)
• Make eye contact for three seconds longer than comfortable
• Say “yes” to a coffee invitation

With Curtis, I started by accepting his offer to walk me to my car. Then coffee. Then lunch. Each micro-opening building on the last.

Write Your Lists

Clarity creates confident openness. Write three lists:

List 1: What you want in a partner/friend/job
Be specific. Not “nice” but “remembers what matters to me.” Not “successful” but “passionate about their work.”

List 2: What you need to become
To attract List 1, who do you need to be? Not perfect, but prepared.

List 3: Your non-negotiables
What closes your heart immediately? Know your dealbreakers.

Notice Your Closing Mechanisms

We all have ways we close without realizing:

• Sarcasm: Deflecting sincerity with humor
• Busyness: No time for connection
• Perfectionism: If I can’t do it perfectly, I won’t try
• Cynicism: Expecting disappointment
• Independence: “I don’t need anyone”

I was queen of sarcastic deflection. Curtis would say something kind, I’d make a joke. He’d offer help, I’d insist I was fine. Recognizing these patterns was the first step to changing them.

Open Doesn’t Mean Unprotected

Here’s what took me years to understand: being open doesn’t mean having no boundaries. It means having conscious boundaries instead of unconscious walls.

Walls keep everything out
Boundaries let the right things in

Walls are built from fear
Boundaries are built from wisdom

Walls isolate
Boundaries connect safely

With Curtis, I was open but boundaried. I shared my story but didn’t trauma dump. I was vulnerable but didn’t lose myself. I trusted but verified. This wasn’t the blind openness that got me hurt before—it was conscious openness.

The Practice of Staying Open

Openness isn’t a one-time decision. It’s a daily practice:

Morning Openness Check

Each morning, I check: Where am I closed today? Usually it’s somewhere—closed to feedback, closed to help, closed to joy. Naming it helps me consciously open.

Evening Reflection

Before bed: Where did I close today when I could have stayed open? Not to shame myself, but to learn. That moment I shut down Curtis’s suggestion? That was closing. The help I refused? Closing.

Weekly Vulnerability Practice

Once a week, I consciously choose vulnerability:

• Share something I’m struggling with
• Ask for help I don’t desperately need
• Admit a mistake without excuse
• Express appreciation without caveat
• Receive kindness without deflection

When Openness Feels Dangerous

Some days, openness feels like standing in traffic. After Curtis’s health crisis, I wanted to close completely—protect myself from potential loss. After friend betrayals, closing seemed smart. After professional disappointments, walls felt necessary.

But here’s what I know: the things we do to protect ourselves often become our prisons. The walls that keep pain out also keep joy out. The armor that prevents hurt also prevents connection.

On dangerous-feeling days, I practice selective openness:

• Open to Curtis, cautious with others
• Open to possibility, closed to toxicity
• Open to growth, closed to manipulation
• Open to love, closed to drama

The Compound Effect of Openness

Eighteen and a half years after choosing to stay open despite my heartbreak, the compound effect is staggering:

• A marriage built on peace, not passion
• Friendships based on authenticity, not performance
• Work relationships grounded in trust
• Family connections deepened by vulnerability
• A life expanded by saying yes to possibilities

None of this would exist if I’d closed after that five-year disaster. The very relationship that should have closed me became the catalyst for the most important opening of my life.

Openness in Different Life Areas

Openness isn’t just about romantic love:

Professional openness: Being willing to learn, even at 61. Taking feedback. Trying new approaches. Admitting what you don’t know.

Creative openness: Sharing your work before it’s perfect. Receiving critique. Trying mediums where you’ll fail (hello, Dutch pour).

Social openness: Making new friends after 50. Joining groups. Starting conversations. Being seen.

Spiritual openness: Questioning old beliefs. Exploring new ideas. Admitting you don’t have answers.

Physical openness: Trying yoga when you’re inflexible. Dancing when you’re uncoordinated. Being beginners together.

The Paradox of Openness

The more you need to be open, the harder it is. When you’re hurt, lonely, scared—that’s when openness matters most and feels most impossible.

That’s the paradox: openness is both the medicine and the challenge. It’s what heals and what requires healing to achieve.

After my five-year relationship disaster, I needed connection most but trusted least. The medicine was exactly what felt poisonous. But taking it anyway—staying open despite the fear—led to everything good in my life now.

Your Invitation to Open

Whatever has closed you—heartbreak, betrayal, disappointment, loss—you have a choice. You can stay closed and safe and small. Or you can crack open, just a little, and see what might enter.

Start where you are. Start scared. Start small. But start.

Write your lists. What do you want? Who must you become? Practice micro-openings. One authentic conversation. One vulnerable share. One accepted kindness.

Remember: open doesn’t mean foolish. It means conscious. It means choosing possibility over protection, connection over comfort, growth over guarantees.

Today, I choose to stay open, even when fear tells me to close. Because openness is what makes love—and life—possible.

Curtis is proof. Our steady, drama-free, deeply loving marriage exists because I stayed open when everything in me wanted to close. That whisper on my apartment floor was right: Don’t close. Stay open.

The best things enter through the doors we’re brave enough to keep cracked.