On being seen by yourself

There is a quiet version of you that has been watching the louder one all this time. She is not impressed and she is not disappointed. She is simply waiting for you to notice that she is there.

Most of the work I do — in workshops, in reflection circles, in long letters — is a slow attempt at one thing: helping people meet that quieter version on better terms. Not as a critic. Not as a judge. Just as a witness who will not look away.

Three signs you have not been seeing yourself

1. You can recite what you ought to feel about your life, but not what you actually feel.
2. Other people's opinions reach you in a millisecond; your own opinions of yourself take days to arrive.
3. The kindest sentence anyone has said to you this year was a sentence you wrote in a journal.

If you recognise even one of these, the work is not to fix you. The work is to slow you down enough that you can finally hear yourself.

A small practice

For the next seven days, at the end of the day, write one sentence that begins with: "Today, I want to tell you that..." — and address it to yourself.

Do not read them back until day eight. On day eight, read them in one sitting, quietly, and notice what changes in your chest.

You were the witness all along. You just needed to be invited.