Hi, my name is Vaibhavi Goyal, and welcome to Choose Fullness.

During a workshop I went to this past fall, one of my peers said something that I haven’t stopped thinking about: “Vulnerability is the new credibility.” At the time, I just wrote it down in my notes app and moved on, but the more I thought about it, the more it started to make sense.

I like to think I show up to most situations as myself. I don’t try to fake it or act like I’ve got it all together. But I’ve realized that being genuine doesn’t always come easy, it takes vulnerability. And being vulnerable means being okay with not having all the answers. That’s where humility really plays a role, being honest enough with yourself and others to admit when you’re uncertain, scared, or still figuring it out. It’s not easy, but it’s where growth and trust begin.

The idea that vulnerability builds credibility felt backwards at first. We’re used to thinking of credibility as looking confident and polished. But when I really think about the people I trust most, they’re the ones who are honest, even when that honesty is a little messy. That’s what makes them real. And being real—that’s where connection starts.

A few months ago, I met with a professor to talk about working in their research lab. They asked if I had experience with coding and specific research tools. I could’ve brushed past the question or tried to sound more qualified than I was, but instead, I told the truth—I didn’t have experience with those things yet. The professor appreciated my honesty, but in the end, said I wasn’t what they were looking for. Was it disappointing? Yeah. But I knew I did the right thing by being upfront. Fortunately, I found a different lab, one that actually fits where I’m at right now and gives me the chance to grow. That little moment reminded me that being real might not always get you what you want, but it usually gets you what you need. And most importantly, it built a foundation of trust.

Over spring break, I read a book called Stumbling on Happiness, and it made a point that stuck with me: we’re not as unique as we think we are. We like to believe our problems are special, but in reality, we share a lot more than we realize. The book said one of the best ways to make decisions is to talk to people who’ve been in your shoes. But instead, we often isolate ourselves, thinking we have to figure it all out alone. I found that vulnerability has the ability to break this cycle. I see this especially when I think about conversations I’ve had with friends about faith. We’ll talk about how easy it is to go days without praying or feeling connected to God and we all kind of laugh in relief because we thought we were the only ones. When someone finally says, “I’ve been feeling distant from God lately,” it opens the door for everyone else to say, “Me too.” That’s the kind of connection that only vulnerability can spark.

That’s what vulnerability does, it reminds you that you’re not alone. And honestly, I still struggle with this. I don’t always like sharing the deeper details of my life—sometimes it doesn’t feel right, or I’m just not in the headspace to go there—and I’ve realized that’s okay too. But I’m learning that being real doesn’t mean telling everyone everything, it just means showing up honestly, however you’re really doing that day.

I’ve also learned that if you want to be there for others, you have to be honest with yourself first. Think about the times you’ve felt comforted by someone. Chances are, it was because they understood—because they’d gone through something similar themselves. Take breakups, for example. It’s easy to say, “You’ll get over it,” or “They weren’t right for you anyway.” But unless you’ve been through one yourself, those words don’t really land. The most helpful thing someone can do in that moment is just sit with you and say, “I know it hurts. And that’s okay.” That kind of support doesn’t come from having all the answers, it comes from simply showing up and being there.

I see the same thing in professional spaces. What if it was normal to say “I don’t know” without feeling like you’re failing? What if asking your boss for help wasn’t something to be ashamed of? And in interviews, how often are we so focused on impressing someone that we forget to ask if the job even fits who we are?

And honestly, I’ve done that too. I’ve stressed about how others see me. I want to come across as smart and capable, even if I don’t feel that way all the time. But the more I lean into honesty, the more I realize that chasing perfection is exhausting. I’d rather be seen for who I really am than for a version of me that’s carefully put together but completely drained.

When I first came to college, I felt behind. Everyone else seemed like they had their lives figured out. I had to study harder, plan more, and constantly play catch-up. But now I’m learning to accept that my path doesn’t need to look like anyone else’s. I may not land the most impressive job or have the most eye-catching resume, but I’m finding peace in the idea that where I end up will be right for me. Especially if it’s a place where I can be honest, respected, and real.

The more I think about it, the more I believe vulnerability isn’t just helpful, it’s necessary. It builds trust. It opens space for connection. And it creates environments—whether in friendships, classrooms, or careers—where people actually feel seen and supported.

We’re taught to do things on our own. To be self-sufficient. To keep it together. But I think we miss out on so much when we close ourselves off. We need each other. And it’s okay to lean on someone else. It’s okay not to know everything. It’s okay to talk about what’s real.

So that’s what I’m working on: being real, asking for help, and showing up honestly—because I want to be in places where vulnerability isn’t the exception, it’s expected. Not the most polished or accomplished spaces, but the ones where people feel safe to be who they are.

So remember—your glass is full. Whether you see it that way is up to you.