To Be Seen
I’ve known my husband, Ben, for 16 years. However, we sort of grew up together, we were just a few blocks apart and never knew it. Same schools, same sets of friends, we even have a picture of us from 1992 in jr. high choir together on the same row just completely opposite ends. I even ditched school and went over to his apartment with friends my senior year - 1997! Turns out he wasn’t there that day, just his roommates. Nothing but near misses until we connected in 2010 on Facebook.
My brain tingles every time I think about it. I swear we must have met as kids and for some reason we both forgot.
From the moment we started talking though, he felt like home to me. I saw something in him that reminded me I wasn’t alone in this world.
We didn’t know about the near misses right away, when we started comparing stories from youth. These little tethers to each other. I think it felt like magic to us. Still a mystery all these years later.
We’ve often talked about what it would have been like had we met back then and we’ve come to the conclusion that it’s a good thing we didn’t. We are not who we were all those years ago. Though some pieces of our core remain. I like to think that we bring out the best in each other now. We’re not perfect by any means, but even when we’re angry, we end up finding a way back to each other.
We were talking a lot this morning as we sometimes do if he’s awake before I go to work. He was sharing more bits and pieces of his life with me that he’s recently discovered and it dawned on me as it sometimes does when we’re talking, just how clearly I see him. Even when he thinks I don’t. I see this man who has gone through hell, a few times, and he keeps getting up, he keeps going. He keeps creating, he keeps learning. He downplays it all, doesn’t see what I see. He has this big beautiful brilliant mind. His heart is tired though. I can see that too. All of the hits have left him bruised.
As I sat and thought about what it means to see him and others, I feel sometimes like I am seeing past what’s right in front of me. Like I can see every iteration - kind of flipbook like - to become the one in front at the end.
Maybe we’re all living breathing flipbooks and popup books? A funny kind of image in my head, maybe it’s just how I see us all.
To see clearly, you have to be willing to look at all of someone. Every single piece, not just what they portray. Not everyone wants to do that though and I find that sometimes, not everyone wants to be seen. It turns out that it can scare some people when you tell them “I see you” and mean it.
Like me. It scares me when someone says “I see you.” Mostly because all I ever see are my own flaws, my things that I don’t want a light shone on. What if you see my flaws too and then decide I’m awful? Am I worthy of being seen? That’s what plays in my head. Old programming of the “not enough” variety. Because of that, I do what I can to make sure no one else feels that way.
Recently, on my drive to work I saw a younger ish black man walking, he was dressed in all black, had the big earphones on and was carrying a grocery bag. He looked up as I drove by and I happened to glance over at the same time and we made eye contact - so I smiled. He was so astonished that he didn’t exactly smile back, his eyes got wide and he looked so surprised! As I came to a stop at the light I saw in my rearview that he kept turning and looking back at me, kind of shaking his head.
I wondered if he thought I was weird. I wondered what his story is. I wondered if he was on his way home or to work or to something fun at 7:15 am on a summer day. I hoped he felt seen.
A few days later, I saw a weathered older man in a light blue T-shirt and dark blue jeans, walking with a limp and his smiling happy bulldog crossing in the crosswalk as I was about to turn. I saw not quite a smile, but a light in his eyes when they met mine as I smiled and nodded to him. I saw him in the returned nod and ease of his shoulders as they dropped. Realizing in that moment that he wasn’t invisible. Another life I wondered about.
A moment later, I saw you young girl with dark brown hair and square black rimmed glasses, dressed in a black t-shirt, black knee length skirt, and black doc martens with a large black open umbrella. Her face turned upwards toward the sun singing her heart out as she walked along the sidewalk. Not a care in the world but for the music she was sharing. Oblivious to the impact and impression she left on me. I wondered about her life, how she found herself there on the sidewalk. To me… she looked like walking freedom.
Two days ago, I saw the younger ish black man again, walking again with his earphones and bag and all in black. The same thing happened- he looked up and this time smiled at me in recognition. So I waved and he waved back. Nodding his head to the beat of whatever he was listening to. I wondered again what his life is like. Wondered if he knew that even though I didn’t know anything about him, he was seen.
Isn’t that part of what this life is all about - seeing each other? Witnessing each other’s existence. Knowing that everyone is full of stories and experiences and baggage that shapes them. But the core of it all is connection, and wanting to be seen fully. Maybe?
Anyway, I hope you’ll find a way to see others around you. Even if it’s just a quick smile and nod to the stranger on the street.
Tell me your stories about connection. I’d love to know your thoughts!
Thanks for being here friends. I appreciate you.
“But the core of it all is connection, and wanting to be seen fully.” This.
I wanna talk about my cousin a bit I love that German differentiates between a female cousin and a male one by adding an "-e" to the end the word). I didn't think I could connect with her so deeply and in a very short time for so many years. The reason was that because of my dad's job, our vacations to my hometown were short, and most of our time there was spent visiting this relative, that relative, grandparents and so on. That all changed after 2020. When my parents and lived separately for some months due to some circumstances, I got to spend a long time getting familiar with my cousin and forming this deep bond I have with her now. Now I see her more as my friend and big sister (She's nine months older than me) than my cousin.