On being seen

One of the best feelings I’ve ever experienced, and I’m sure I’m not alone in my affinity for this feeling, is being seen. Really seen, exactly as I am, the real me that I don’t even realize that I probably try constantly to hide.

I’m talking about being seen through a lens of kindness and understanding, of (dare I say it?) love.

Sometimes I think I am an open book, but then I go back later and find out no, very guarded and walled off. It can get lonely in here.

That makes the times when someone points some laser x-ray vision at me stand out as bright, gleaming moments in my life.

I can count these moments on one hand. The time Claudia gave me a leopard print velour mini-dress. When the homeopathic doctor, after having met me only once for 2 hours, summed up a lifetime of romantic troubles in one sentence that was more useful than anything I’d gotten in 7 years of therapy. A group exercise that moved me almost to tears at the first empathy speak workshop I attended.

The most recent time was in Asheville (go here for the password if it asks you). I didn’t write about it at the time, because I’d been avoiding the cabin, and because it’s connected to the Big Knot, which I hadn’t written about yet.

Now the knot is beginning to untangle, I want to find a way to put this experience in words.

I went to Asheville despite not having a business. I went to see if I could connect more to the part of me that does want to have one. Here’s the snippet of Havi’s copy that convinced me to go “It’s not a week of biggification. It’s a life of feeling comfortable being yourself, that comes from not being fearful or conflicted about biggification.” Yeah, I want that.

Let’s get one thing out of the way: I can’t convey the total experience of Asheville in words. Anyone who figures out how to do a Vulcan mind-meld on me or reach into my head Replicator-style is totally welcome to find out about the experience telepathically, but I’m not even going to attempt to try to explain the whole of it.

That said, our homework one day was to investigate and collect bits and pieces of our mission and message. Message being defined as Things I Have Opinions About.

That evening found me sitting in the bar with maybe half the people at the event, and how we got talking about my message, I have no idea. The parts of my message I was talking about were mainly about clothes, and the details of that rant could (and I hope will) fill another post or several.

Being a self-confessed habitual hider on the receiving end of so much attention was… jarring. Having brilliant, brave people dream up ways to take my message out into the world, while fantastic, was also kind of scaring the crap out of me.

More than that, the incomplete version of my rant I articulated before the idea popcorn started popping meant that many of the ideas, while awesome, didn’t feel like me. Of course I didn’t say that, because hello, all these kind awesome people were giving me the benefit of their wisdom. Even if the ideas didn’t fit, I was grateful for them.

And then Lisa Boyer said something to the effect of, “You get excited about the ideas, but when we talk about making actual things, you deflate.” And I hadn’t consciously realized it, but she was so right.

I felt like what I had been saying (not just in words but in body language) had been seen and understood at the most fundamental level. My heart jumped up inside me saying, Someone gets it! Someone can see right into me and can tell what is important from what is dead weight! Hooray! I’m not even sure I’d consciously realized the distinction before Lisa said it. That moment that will stick with me forever.

I think that’s what is so wonderful about being truly seen. The people seeing you are outside, so they have this clear view that isn’t tainted by all the internal criticism and doubt, all the panic around how-in-God’s-name-will-I-ever-take-all-these-ideas-and-turn-them-into-a-business?!

Lisa saw into my heart, and I’m glad she was there looking at me during my brief stint on the Asheville hot seat. What I’m going to do with her insights is another matter and still a mystery at this point. But I keep that memory like a strip of thumb-suck blanket, brandishing it for comfort. I’ll keep you posted about where I go with it.