What It Feels Like to Finally Be Seen

I think one of the craziest parts about being seen—really seen—is that it feels overwhelming in this deep, soul-level kind of way. At first, it’s scary. Like part of you wants to hide from it, and part of you wants to just bask in the gloriousness of it.

You want it.

You crave it.

But when it finally shows up, you don’t quite know what to do with it.

It’s not that I’ve gone through life invisible. I’m a lot—loud, bright, a full-force personality. People have always noticed me. But I’m just now realizing they didn’t actually see me. They saw the performance, the sparkle, the version of me that takes care of everyone else. The one who’s always okay.

And now? People are seeing the version of me who isn’t always okay. And they’re not running. That’s wild.

I think it’s that I’ve tried to make friends for so long based on the fact that I thought all I brought to the table was what I could do, when it turns out what I really bring to the table is, well– me.

There’s this moment that’s stuck with me—something so small, but it messed me up in the best way. I was sitting there, just a little off, a little stressed, not even sure what was wrong yet when a friend looked at me and said, “Hey… are you okay?” Like he knew something was off before I did.

And that broke something open in me.

Because I’ve never had someone see that version of me and not use it against me. Kevin never saw me—thank God. If he had, he would’ve used every crack in me as a weapon.

And so for years, I learned that it wasn’t safe to be seen. That the parts of me that needed love were liabilities.

But now, I’m starting to believe maybe that isn’t true anymore.

This version of me? I’m still figuring her out. But I know she’s showing up every day, even when it’s hard. I know she’s worked her ass off to build this life, even if she forgets to give herself credit. And maybe that’s the most ironic part—how I can feel like I don’t deserve peace or love because I never stopped long enough to appreciate how hard I worked for it.

So yeah. I’m learning to see myself, too. One day at a time. Not in some self-help-book kind of way, but in a real, messy, “I made it through hell and I’m still here” kind of way.

And if you’re reading this and you still feel invisible?

Here’s what I’ll tell you:
You’re going to have to choose yourself in a way that might feel selfish. But do it anyway. Shock yourself with how well it works. Because the second you start seeing yourself—even just a little—it becomes easier for others to do the same.

You don’t have to earn visibility. You don’t have to perform for love.
Just start showing up as you.
That’s enough.