hi there, I see you

if you want to be seen, that is

It’s understandable how often we hide what we want or are even thinking about wanting. We hide it from ourselves, of course, because even wanting something good means change and change makes us feel unsafe.

And we hide our wants from other people because being seen wanting something can feel so exposed.

But hiding what we want from others is not always the best choice. It can convince you that what you want doesn’t matter or is somehow suspect, not okay. Maybe it’s too much to ask for or too little. Or why haven’t you done that yet, you might as well not bother. Either way, it’s too something, to be shared with another human.

Self-doubt grows in silence.

I wrote about this in Why Bother? Discover the Desire for What’s Next — how when we don’t let ourselves be seen caring, trying, taking little running leaps at change, that itself can convince us there’s no point.

Our hiding becomes the main story.

But maybe if we did open up and talk about it, even a little, with someone we trust, we might see new possibilities, we might see it’s not too late.

We need connections to other humans, we need to be seen and witnessed, to help us believe in what we want.

That doesn’t make us weak or needy, it means we have a human brain.

I’ve seen so many miracles happen when people share something they want with someone they trust. Little snowballs of “hmmm… maybe I could…” pick up heft and begin to feel real like the Velveteen Rabbit. Tender shoots of ideas, newborn thoughts, barely articulate desires can take shape. Offers of help and insight may come too, but that’s not what we need first.

First, we need to be seen.

Don’t rush to ask for advice or help or to ask “What do you think?” Instead ask to be witnessed.

Why do we skip this step?

Because vulnerability shrieks your brain. What if I fail? What if I change my mind? What if I give up? What if I hate it?

Or do we think we need to be crystal clear on what we want, firm in our plan? But nothing could be further from the truth. By sharing wobbly half-formed ideas or first steps toward changing, we test how it feels — does our energy surge or sag when we talk about our thing? Do we feel flush with “Yes!” or mildly curious to learn more or like we are hauling out a big should? You get to test the strength of your desire, your curiosity. That’s so valuable.

All of this means you have to ask another human to witness you. You have to ask for what you want - to be seen without advice (at least at first). Sometimes that’s easier in a professional relationship like therapy (it’s a big part of my job with my clients and one I treasure) and often it is available in a friendship or partnership if we can be brave enough to ask,

“Could you listen to me without commenting or giving me any advice. I want to share some ideas about ____________ (moving house, writing a book, running a 5K, saying no to my mother about visiting, selling all my earthly possessions and backpacking around the world, getting a tattoo, starting a consulting business, etc.).”

When you ask someone to witness you, you aren’t looking for their stamp of approval. You’re saying, ‘I matter, what I want matters, I would like you to share that with me.’

Of course, choose carefully who you ask. Many a dream has been squashed by choosing the wrong person to let into your bubble of possibility. If in doubt, ask someone else. Please.

Here’s my invite to you — the comments on this newsletter are a safe place. Would you like to be witnessed about something that feels risky or ballsy or too late? Or too small to matter? Tell me and I will witness you. I’ll simply say, “You’re awesome!”

Just click the pink button.

And if you aren’t ready to be witnessed, by me or anybody else, that is good too. No forcing, no holding back, to quote a favorite Rilke poem. We aren’t here to perform for anybody. No hurry and no need to be public if that isn’t your thing.

Love,

Jen

P.S. For

Katherine May

wise and practical take, read this. I also love what

Lisa Olivera

wrote “Something I keep telling myself: “Maybe it’s really okay to be seen not knowing, to be seen truly in process without the crystallized wisdom yet, to be seen walking the path instead of at the end of it. Maybe that’s your medicine, actually.”