Yes, You Can Be Outgoing, High Achieving, AND Afraid To Be Seen

Clearing up a misconception I'm hearing in the TT comments....

I want to shine a light on something:

A new subscriber on TikTok recently commented on a video of me discussing my ‘fear of being seen’.

She replied (I’ll paraphrase) that I could solve my fear by working in a demanding, intense job, like nursing. She said when the stakes are that high and there’s no time to think about fear, it would cure me quickly.

Here’s what I want to clarify:

You can be: successful, capable, and even out-going, and still afraid to be seen.

You can be: at the top of your class, the loudest in the room, and still afraid to be seen.

You can be: the person other people turn to and rely on, and still afraid to be seen.

In fact, at different times, I have been all these things. I’ve moved to new cities and countries made entirely new friend groups. I’ve spoken in front of hundreds of people (someday, hopefully thousands and more). I have posted my articles to millions of readers on the internet.

And I still feel a fear to be seen.

That fear of being seen drove me into being a people pleaser, peace-keeper, ‘good girl’.

So what’s the difference?

A fear of being seen doesn’t have to include being literally seen, as in present in a social setting. It might include that for you, but for me, it’s about a fear of being understood and seen for who I am on the inside.

Why? Because I picked up shame along the way as a kid that being seen was selfish, and annoying to others. Being seen then meant: being creative and expressive in front of people, usually singing, performing, asking for attention and thus acknowledgement and praise.

I took that to mean that being seen as my weird, wonderful, authentic and artistic self was a burden to others, and that I didn’t deserve attention.

This narrative simply does not work with my calling, my life purpose; which is to help others see the magic and beauty all around them, within them, in their lives right now. So that they can make the most of their one precious, short lives while they have time.

This is why I’m a writer. It’s the reason, I believe on a spiritual level, I endured the stage IVB cancer diagnosis, the grapefruit size tumor crushing my heart at 17 years old. The fact that we used an experimental chemo. That I was kept alive. It all adds up to that part of my purpose here in this second chance is to share what I learned about how brief and miraculous it is to be alive. A truth we so often forget. Yet it is present all around us: in our reflection in the mirror, in the body we more often shame than praise and thank, in the cup of coffee so warm and comforting. It’s everywhere…I’m here to prove it to you.

But I digress.

I have done a great many things on my bucket list, and yet I still feel the strong and damning pull of shame every time I post here, on social media, any time I speak up. Any time I offer my work at massive companies that have given me the privilege of a job, I drown momentarily in fear as I present my work. Thinking they will find it bad, wrong, annoying, burdensome, and weird. Because that is what I associated my art - and thus myself, because I have always been an artist - as being. Bad, wrong, annoying, burdensome. Even while knowing that the fact I see things differently is divinely intended: I must be different in order to bring about change.

You have felt this too.

You’ve let me know in comments. You’ve reached out on social media. You’ve sent me messages.

So many of us are dying to be seen as who we truly are,

while enduring a tug-of-war with the belief that who we are isn’t welcome by others. AKA the very people we want to see us.

I am digging deeper into this with the help of the Golden Algorithm via a very long Chatgpt talk currently, and will share more of that in future posts.

For now, if you’re ready, here are some journal prompts to help you see your own fear of being seen:

Journal Prompts

Prompts are for paid subscribers. Subscribe today (only $7 a month) and take this journey with me.