I'm turning 45 this Sunday. A part of getting older and wiser is continuing to shed some of the doubt and second-guessing other people put on me and instead, being able to move about the world more weightlessly. Maybe you do that more because there's literally not as much time left of your living days to worry about what other people think of you. It could also be because a lifetime of judgment and whatever defense mechanism you've developed to shield yourself from all of that is just too tiring to carry with you anymore. In my case, it might be both of these, plus the fact that I am ever more sure of myself and my choices because I have people around me who chose to, and have done the work themselves to see me for who I am. That kind of love and support, at work and home, keeps you warm all day long, no matter what kind of chill happens in the air. They compel you to keep your shield down and just be you.
They are the kind of people who will see you even when you just want to be invisible (shoutout to my introverts out there). They are the kind of people who will see the best in you, even when you don't look or feel or have the energy to show up at your best once in a while. They are the kind of people who will see what's possible for you when you can't quite see things clearly for yourself, even when you squint hard. They are the kind of people who will see you across the room, and make you feel like you not only belong in that room, but you own that room, with just a nod and a knowing smile sent your way.
To be honest, I don't let a lot of people into my life deeply. I'm pretty fiercely selfish about my time and space, because I have learned it the hard way that more than any defense mechanism, what I really need is the intentional repose and breaks for myself. Some people read it as coldness, others think I am shy or anti-social. Some even think this is quite at odds with how they have seen and known me, because I do socialize gregariously and love to tell stories that connect with big groups of people and laugh with them until I cry. I am a seeming contradiction, because I've got a lot of specific terms with which I am negotiating my time and space and moving about the world, measured and intentional in when, how, with whom, and why I share my time and space. This, sometimes, leaves people feeling like they aren't so sure if they really know me.
And yet, some of my memories of the most meaningful conversations took place with people I'd met for the first time in social or professional settings, because I chose to make the most of the time I had with them, knowing my social battery is on sprints rather than marathons. That means we opened up about aspects of our lives and thoughts and feelings one wouldn't normally share with strangers, with deep connections that formed in minutes not months. I believe this is the reason why I am lucky to count many people in my life who fit the descriptions above.
I am not available to everyone all the time in ways they would fully understand. And I understand that means I am not accessible to all, nor would I expect everyone to choose or do the work themselves to see me for who I am. Those are moments of cyclical vulnerability, when the self-assurance feels thinner and old habits creep up—simply wanting to say or do things that don't feel like my own words or actions, but remnants of signals I learned at some point to paint myself brighter and try to be seen by someone who will never understand or value the real me. It's not because I've got some invisible shield on. It's because their world view doesn't recognize me as a familiar pattern. This used to upset me quite a bit. I felt the need to kick and scream and beg to be seen, whatever it took. And sometimes I did do that, only to realize that I have made myself invisible and unrecognizable to my own eyes.
My life and work are no longer about contorting myself to be seen and understood by everyone and everywhere. In fact, sometimes, I choose to be invisible to even the closest people in my life because that's what I need in order to be myself. And that's OK. I used to think "just be yourself" was such a vacuous and meaningless advice. But now I know the power of it because the difference is, I now fully occupy my own body and mind to mean exactly what that means no matter where I am, and that being myself is a strength not a liability, because it's on my own terms. Now you see me, now you don't.