Vulnerability in Veterans: Weakness or Strength?

9-16-2025

By Dr. Howard Friedman MD | Veteran | U.S. Army Medical Corps | Internal Medicine | HHOM LLC

Two faces of one truth: on the battlefield, vulnerability meant exposure to danger; in life after service, it becomes the key to love, trust, and healing.—Dr. Howard Friedman, MD

A shield raised high against the fight,

A guarded heart in endless night.

Yet drop the guard, the soul can grow—

Through tears we heal, through trust we know.

---Dr. Howard Friedman MD

Thesis

 For veterans, vulnerability means two things: in combat, it was weakness that risked survival; in life after service, it is strength that builds connection. This paradox is the challenge — and the opportunity — of healing.

Introduction – The Word with Two Faces

“Vulnerability” is not a comfortable word in military culture. On the battlefield, to be vulnerable meant exposure — to risk harm, failure, or death. It was something to be minimized at all costs. But life after service rewrites the definition. At home, in family, in friendship, vulnerability no longer signals danger but connection. It is the willingness to share fears, express emotions, and speak truths that can heal. This clash of meanings is more than a word game; it is a struggle many veterans live every day.

Vulnerability as Weakness – The Military Lens

In the armed forces, vulnerability was synonymous with weakness. To admit fear, to expose doubt, to falter — these were luxuries one could not afford. Vulnerability meant susceptibility to hazards: physical threats from the enemy, social pressures from peers, or environmental dangers in hostile terrain. Soldiers were trained to harden themselves, to push aside fragility in order to survive and protect those beside them.

That mindset saves lives in combat. But the habit lingers long after the uniform is folded away. Veterans often carry an unspoken rule: never let your guard down. In civilian life, that rule becomes a barrier, turning strength into isolation.

 Vulnerability as Strength – The Human Lens

Outside the battlefield, vulnerability carries an opposite meaning. In relationships, it is not a liability but a bridge. To be vulnerable with a spouse, a child, or a trusted friend is to share emotions and thoughts openly. Vulnerability fosters empathy — it creates space for another person to understand and respond with compassion. In deep relationships trust and intimacy are seeded by vulnerability.

This definition demands courage. It is easier to keep walls up than to let someone see the raw, unpolished self beneath. Yet when we allow it, vulnerability becomes the birthplace of intimacy, trust, and growth.

The Veteran’s Dichotomy.

 Here lies the tension: two truths that pull in opposite directions. For the veteran, vulnerability meant survival’s enemy. For the civilian self, vulnerability means relationship’s lifeblood. The difficulty is not that one definition is wrong and the other right, but that both are valid in their own realms.

This dichotomy explains why so many veterans feel torn. To open up can feel unsafe, even disloyal to the discipline that kept them alive. To stay closed can protect, but it also isolates. The challenge is learning when to guard, and when to open.

Personal Lens – Marriage and Family

In my own life, vulnerability has carried both sides of the dichotomy. With Ibojka, it has been a source of strength. Choosing to be open with her — to share fears, doubts, and hopes — has drawn us closer and created a bond that feels unbreakable. Vulnerability in marriage has not been weakness; it has been the very foundation of trust.

But in my family, the absence of that kind of openness has done the opposite. Where silence replaces honesty, distance grows. The walls that protect us from pain can also keep us apart. Vulnerability, in that sense, is not just personal — it is relational. It can build bridges, or, when withheld, it can leave gaps that never fully close.

 Professional Lens – Medicine and Patients

In medicine, vulnerability took on another layer of complexity. As a physician, I wanted my patients to be vulnerable with me — to feel safe enough to share their struggles, fears, and private truths. Those moments of openness were where healing often began.

But medicine today rarely allows space for that. Fifteen minutes in an exam room is not enough to build the trust required for true vulnerability. The system pushes for efficiency, for diagnoses and prescriptions, while the patient’s deeper story often remains untold.

And on my side of the exchange, I held back as well. I was not comfortable being vulnerable with my patients. I offered expertise and care, but not my own frailty. That imbalance created a quiet tension: I wanted my patients to open themselves fully, but I rarely gave them the same in return. Vulnerability in the clinic was necessary, but it was also constrained — by time, by role, by culture.

Toward Healing – Integrating Both Meanings

 Healing does not mean discarding one definition of vulnerability for the other. Both are true. In combat, vulnerability was exposure to danger — a threat to survival. In relationships, vulnerability is also exposure — but this time to trust, intimacy, and the risk of rejection. The word itself has not changed; the context has.

For veterans, the challenge is learning discernment. To keep the guard up in war was necessary. To keep it up at home can become a prison. Healing asks us to relearn vulnerability — not recklessly, but in safe places: with a spouse, with family, with a counselor, or with fellow veterans who understand.

At its core, every act of vulnerability is a choice between love and fear. On the battlefield, fear kept us alive. In relationships, love keeps us connected. True healing comes when we can carry both meanings without shame — knowing when to guard, and when to open.

Closing Reflection

 Vulnerability is not weakness or strength alone; it is both. It is weakness when exposure threatens survival, and it is strength when openness fosters love. Veterans carry both truths within them, and the work of healing lies in holding that tension without shame.

This blog — and all I write at HHOM LLC — comes from that same vulnerable place. These reflections are not distant or clinical. They are personal, drawn from my own life as a veteran, a physician, and a husband. I offer them freely, with gratitude, in the hope that they bring even a measure of connection and healing to those who read.

Weakness and strength, two sides of the same,

A word with a double, unyielding name.

To guard is to live, to open—be free

Vulnerability teaches who we can be.

---Dr. Howard Friedman MD

—Dr. Howard Friedman MD

Board-Certified | Internal Medicine | Veteran | U.S. Army Medical Corps

Founder of Howard’s House of Medicine (HHOM LLC)

https://www.hhomllc.com

Frequently Asked Questions:

Q: Why do veterans often struggle with vulnerability after service?

A: Because in combat, vulnerability meant danger. Admitting fear or weakness could risk survival. That survival mindset lingers long after the uniform comes off, making it difficult to open up in civilian life.

Q: How can vulnerability be a strength in relationships?

A: When we allow ourselves to be open — with a spouse, family, or friend — we create trust and empathy. Vulnerability builds intimacy, turning guarded silence into connection and growth.

Q: What does healing require when it comes to vulnerability?

A: Healing means discernment: knowing when to guard and when to open. For veterans, it’s about carrying both truths without shame — recognizing that in war, vulnerability was weakness, but at home, it can be strength and love.