There is an emotional wound called the Fear of Being Seen. It’s different from just the situational stress of performance, like we experience when we give a presentation. Alongside the Fear of Being Seen is the wound of Not Being Understood.
The Fear of Being Seen is an existential fear that if someone sees the real you, you’ll be rejected or destroyed. People with this emotional wound tend to be perfectionists or they tend to shrink their lives — to keep a low profile so you don’t risk exposure.
The wound of Not Being Understood plays out a little different and is common in the neurodivergent crowd - having intentions misunderstood, connections withdrawn, being misunderstood and under supported. In a way, it’s a fear of NOT being seen, of not being seen correctly.
People with the wound of Not Being Understood might be hyper-independent, compulsive over-sharers in an attempt to be understood, they may withdraw, or they may become chameleons.
This isn’t really about all of that in the clinical sense. But I did just publish a memoir (cough cough, over-explaining in an attempt to be understood) and retreat from publishing entirely for 3 months. (blink blink)
At first, whenever I sat down to write a blog post, I just had those thoughts that I think every writer has - who wants to hear this and why? who am I to be writing this? Usually those thoughts are easy to overcome. It’s not my job to make anyone like my writing, so I just write, trusting that my tribe is out there. Believing that my smoke signals say, “Hey, what about this connection?” I am not into forcing alignment.
But then, whenever I sat down to write I also thought, “ugh, I have nothing to write about.” I have no idea what recesses of my addled brain came up with that idea. In the time since my last posts I’ve started a fascinating job at a vineyard, working part time and with pretty flexible hours. I’ve gone to Hawaii and swam with manta rays, stood at the edge of Kilauea as she erupted (episode 52!), and generally collected enough experiences and stories to generate an entire library.
About 6 years ago I started watercolor painting. It was something I’d always wanted to try. I had the tools and materials — all essentially brand new and untouched, collected over YEARS of dreaming about painting.
Finally, I painted something. It was objectively “not good”. I created a little album on Facebook and called it “Artistic Endeavours” and posted my creations there. Not because the art was good. But, because the practice of painting had been thwarted for years by a fear of being seen and judged not worthy. “Artistic Endeavours” was my personal micro-rebellion against my inner critic and the blanks my brain liked to fill in with negative thoughts. (Also, it’s a good thing I have such generous friends who said nice things.)
The other day I posted a collection of some of my favorite watercolors from recent travel journals. After posting them, I scrolled through the Facebook album.
A watercolor micro-rebellion is a personal exercise to silence your inner critic’s harsh judgement. To prove you can survive being seen. It’s a luxury, a little personal test and you can decide whether or not to participate at any time.
But choosing to build a career as a writer is choosing to be seen and judged. It IS the job.
With my watercolor hobby, being seen is the exercise.
With my writing career, being seen is the job.
