The Fear of Being Seen and Risking Discovery
We have all been there. Pen in hand, staring at a blank page in our journal, ready to pour our hearts out. Then we are bombarded with the thought in the back of our heads that someone, somewhere, might read our personal journal someday. Because of this, we hold back from fully expressing ourselves, and it all feels like an act. We perform on the page, filtering ourselves as if we could get in trouble for being too transparent.
The truth can feel incredibly vulnerable, but lying to ourselves only aims to maim our inner dialogue. We hold on to the fear of being seen in our truest and rawest form because of embarrassment, shame, or guilt; some of the most primitive human emotions that we all have experienced in one way or another.
When I was a kid, I used to be painfully shy. Talking to strangers felt jarring. I remember hiding behind my mom’s leg, intimidated by the world. Everything felt so big and too loud for my gentle existence.
Little Ballerina me, second to the far left. Morelos, Mexico 2001
The first time I ever felt nervous was not dancing on stage in a theatre of 1,000 lit-up faces, but in a classroom presenting in front of twenty classmates. My voice trembled, my hands broke out into a sweat, and I lost all cognitive reasoning. Hiding behind makeup and a costume allowed me to perform as someone other than myself on stage, but at school, it was all me. Whatever I said or did in front of my peers, I had to take accountability for. I was fearful of being seen as less than and having my composure threatened.
As an artist, more often than not, I toil with the thought of old classmates, previous teachers, and family friends finding my work, and I shudder at the thought of judgment. Judgment for wanting to leave the version of me who was quiet, reserved, and awkward behind, and transform into the version of me who is confident, opinionated, and unafraid to speak up. God forbid I have a voice and personality that want to shine through.
For many of us, there seems to always be this lingering feeling of being evaluated by people in our past because they have only ever known one side of us. It feels as if we owe them an explanation as to how we got here, filling in the gaps of our drastically changing life choices. The people who have known us the longest often have a more difficult time accepting our growth. Those worth your time and energy need not know how you got here, but can celebrate you wholly as you are today.
I have this innate belief that everyone is capable of a creative life. Whether they choose to call themselves artists or not, finding a spark of difference in a mundane world is what can change one’s perspective on life. Some choose to chase this spark while others opt out and choose a conventional route. What many won’t admit to us or even themselves is that when they were little, they, too, had creative dreams.
When we were young, exercising the artist in us through play was done with such ease; it was second nature. Through molding of societal pressures, play diminished, and those creative dreams slowly withered away. Many of us lost that spark. For some, the closer they can see themselves in your story, feelings of resentment could come up, not directly relating to you, but more so of the possibility of who they could have been if only they had chosen to nurture their creative child as you are.
Maybe we fear being seen because the work we share is not at the level of mastery we hope to be at someday. Perfection is unrealistic. It is a story we tell ourselves because it tends to be synonymous with comparison. Learning when to hit publish and release our work to the world is learning to be content with the now. You don't have to feel fulfilled as if it is your life’s mission, but feel satisfied in the present and move on.
We have a fear of being seen because it is no longer about telling the story, but sharing the truth. Your truth.
Once you allow others to see yourself as you are, a beautiful thing starts to develop. Others can start to relate to you and see themselves in your personal journey, which can create a shared experience without ever needing to have met. Words alone can be the catalyst for someone to feel seen and heard. Think of the attachment we feel towards our favorite singers and songwriters, and how deeply it feels like they understand us.
We must learn to take a leap of faith and start risking discovery not for the sake of needing to explain ourselves to others, but because the sheer act of doing so gives us agency over our own path. We can only hope that by showing up authentically, others can find themselves in any part of our work, and that might just be the push they need to share their truth with the world.
