I See You

David…I see you. These are some of the kindest words ever spoken to me. Several years ago I was asking a longtime family friend who is an executive coach if he would be willing to meet with my sons as they were facing transitions into adulthood. As we talked further about his work in guiding individuals towards self-discovery, I impulsively said, “Geez, maybe I’m the one that needs this.” He asked what I meant. Realizing that I had unintentionally made my self-sufficient-self appear vulnerable, I matter-of-factly shared that with each new day the burdens of my life seemed to be compounding. When pressed, walls now coming down, I shared that my perceived sense of unilateral responsibility in all facets of my life was beginning to overwhelm me. This extended from work challenges, marriage, parenting from an empty nest, and the disappointment and wounds of relationships. I didn’t initially say any of this with any perceived emotion; just fact. I communicated that I felt as if I had lost a sense of myself. 

“What do you mean?” he asked with care and compassion evident in his voice. I had not intended to venture this far, but I offered, “I just feel that everyone is depending on me— for answers, steadiness, support— that I can’t stop—I have to show up again and again.” Without speaking, my mind drifted to those moments where I would press my face towards my own image in the mirror, staring at myself saying “You really exist, and you can’t stop existing.” I would long for that childhood gift of being able to yell, “TIME OUT!”—and everyone and everything stops. Then the unthinkable happened. My voice cracked as I tried to summarize, “I don’t even know who I am anymore; where others stop and I begin, or I stop and they begin.” Then he said it, and he meant it, ”David, I see you. Then again, slow and with gentle emphasis, ”I see you.” He saw my pain, my wounds, and the profound weight of responsibility that I carried. Though it was evident that I had largely done this with a self-imposed solitude, he didn’t express judgement, he didn’t correct. He didn’t try to encourage or offer advice. He just said, “I see you.” I wept. 

In the work that has been done since that day, I have come to understand that my sense of being “unseen” was not so much because those around me were not looking, but because I was in so many ways hiding. There was so much reputation to protect…I am diligent, tenacious, responsible, able and willing to suffer, and not easily offended. I’m not only SELF sufficient, but I’m sufficient enough to fulfill the needs of others. I’m not weak, fearful, or anxious. And while there are elements of these character traits that are perhaps identifiable in my life and person, to believe that they define me is not only untrue but ultimately hurtful towards others. My business partner, and more so, my dear friend Rich Rayner once spoke the sweetness of truth to me saying, “Your ability to remain calm, controlled and un-reactive has been good in the ER and on the battlefield but not so much in family and friendship.” Translation— I see you, David. As the Proverb affirms, “Faithful are the wounds of a friend.” 

There is vulnerability and risk in being seen for who we authentically are. Shame whispers that we won’t be accepted by others if they came to know who we “really” are. Well perhaps that would be true for some, if we no longer fulfill their personal needs and expectations. But more so, as we acknowledge what those who love us likely already know, we are freed to learn, heal, and grow—releasing the strain of reputation preservation. Here is found the greatest joy— to be truly known and loved. 

It is so important to also understand that there is power in seeing— power to accuse and power to heal. To see and accuse is nothing short of cruelty— a weapon. Seeing with a heart to heal is a sweet expression of kindness— gracious words, like a honeycomb, sweetness to the soul and healing to the bones (Proverbs 16:24). Seeing others in such a way that welcomes, loves, and heals requires the vulnerability of empathy. The kind of seeing that communicates, “Yeah, me too.” Maybe the same, maybe different— but familiar— and you are welcome here with me just as you are. 

Let us be a people that are willing to see and be seen, for one is so clearly dependent on the other. 

“Until we have seen someone’s darkness, we don’t really know who they are. Until we have forgiven someone’s darkness, we don’t really know what love is.” – Marianne Williamson