I’ve reflected on this sentiment ever since I read it years back, wondering if I agree with her conclusion. “I always thought It was what I wanted: to be loved and admired. Now I think perhaps I’d like to be known” (Kristin Hannah in The Nightingale).
I wonder what others would say. It seems that in our world of entertainment and facades, “infuencers” and photo-shopping, we prefer to hide the real us in lieu of being worshipped, revered or simply admired. We hide behind a curtain of make up, clothing, social media, homes, possessions and even professions. We pretend to be what we do or have or look like when maybe that’s not really who we are at all. But we’ve decided, unconsciously or otherwise, that it’s preferable to be oohed and ahhed at, to be “loved,” rather than to allow others past our gates and into our hearts, where there is always a risk of rejection or pain.
As a writer and lover of words, I’ve always cherished cards and notes and for most of my life I kept quite a few of them. These days I retain very, very few. What’s interesting is the ones I appreciate these days are those written from a perspective of knowing me. I love the ones that allude to my humanness and acknowledge my imperfections but that still manage to inspire me. Because her words are honest and real, it proves that the friend truly knows me, and I can trust her to tell me both the truths: the progress she sees I’m making as well as the need-to-improve areas. I have a handful of friends, along with Todd, who are completely honest when we text or talk and they tell me exactly what they notice when I’m wanting to make changes and ask for their opinion. I can’t tell you how much that means to me; it shows me the depth of their commitment and friendship that they would care enough to be real. I love that they have been with me long enough to have made the effort to know me.
But I didn’t always want to be known, and I think many of us may still feel this way. It seems to be much more fulfilling to be admired from afar, to keep up pretenses, to hold people at arms’ length, to let them believe the good they see and to hide the rest.
Because where would we be if they saw the real us? How could we possibly be lovable, let alone admired, if we were known? What if we showed up bare-faced or, worse, with a cried-out face? What if we let our guard down and answered honestly when someone asked us how we’re doing? What if we admitted it’s been a hard year, that we don’t have all—or even most of—the answers, that we’re worried or scared or ashamed or discouraged or let-down or sad or even angry or resentful? What if we didn’t know what to show them because we don’t even know who we are ourselves exactly? But what if we just said as much and invited them to join us on our journey of discovery?
As we think about the upcoming year, I wonder if we could consider these ideas. What difference would it make if instead of trying to impress people, we decided to let them know us? What if the greatest thrill didn’t come from allowing people to see only the good in us but instead came from letting them see our hearts in all its shambles and stages of growth? What if instead of obsessing about what others think of us, we made a conscious effort to create meaningful connections as we tried to get to know others on a deeper level? What if we took a chance at being vulnerable instead of making sure we have it all together before we present ourselves to the world? What if we didn’t seek to be loved but sought to love instead?
I love book quotes so much; I can’t help but question how the author's words sit with me and ask myself if I agree. And if I do, am I living in alignment with what I say I believe? I love words like these because they push me to probe myself, to be honest and to dig deep. I have to say I concur with her statement because I sense, although not as tidy and safe as being admired from a distance, life is most enriching as we experience true intimacy that only comes through knowing--and being known--authentically.
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