Thank You for Seeing Me

** Full disclosure: I very nearly didn’t post this one, and honestly I might still delete it**

I’ve always struggled to trust the value people see in me—me, not just the work I deliver. It’s a mistrust that shows up everywhere. In work, friendships, even casual connections. Whether I’m the one dancing at the bar until 2 a.m. or the"creative problem-solver" at work that helps my employer make money,

I can’t shake this nagging feeling.

People just take what they need from me and move on.

Like they don’t really see me.

It’s messed up, I know. It makes trusting people hard. Compliments feel loaded, like there’s always an angle. I hold back. I second-guess. I question everything.

Trust, for me, is like giving someone something fragile and precious. It’s a Fabergé egg—delicate, a little bouji, valuable, and deeply important.

There’s always the risk that they’ll drop it.

And yeah, it’s happened before. Not every time, but enough for my brain to keep replaying it.

It’s like touching a hot stove.

Your brain warns you: Don’t touch it again. Remember how much it hurt last time? That’s what mistrust feels like for me. A survival instinct trying to keep me safe. I get it, but honestly, it’s exhausting.

It’s also about the world we live in. Being in my skin, you learn to expect being overlooked or underestimated in some spaces. In others, when I’m delivering results, solving problems, or being the “fun one,” I suddenly become visible. The contrast is jarring. It’s hard not to feel like my worth is tied to what I do, not who I am.

So, I hold back. I don’t let people all the way in because I’m scared they won’t handle the messier parts of me with care. And when they fumble, it just feels like proof I was right not to trust them.

Even if, deep down, I know it’s not always intentional.

But some people prove me wrong. I’m lucky to have a chosen family of friends who really see me. Even when I’m messy, pulling away, or struggling. They don’t stop at the mask I sometimes wear and pretend everything’s fine. They see through it and remind me I don’t have to keep it on.

These friends show up in ways that feel so simple but mean everything. They listen.

They check in.

They stay.

They’re helping me rebuild trust, little by little, and I honestly feel so lucky to have them. Just by being there, they make my life better.

Still, I’m realising that holding back comes at a cost. It’s tied to that question Ritchie asked me: Who am I outside of work? 

So much of my identity has been wrapped up in what I create, deliver, and achieve. Without it, I sometimes lose sight of who I am. And honestly, work just isn’t filling me up the same way it used to.

I’m trying to loosen its grip. To let go of this constant need to be productive. I want to figure out how to just be and still feel seen. It’s hard, but I know it’s something I need to do.

So, this is really a long way of saying thank you. Thank you to the people who remind me I’m more than what I accomplish. To the ones who see all of me and make me feel safe enough to take the mask off. You’re helping me trust again, and that means everything.

As I move into 2025, I want to be more deliberate about how I spend my time and who gets to see all of me.

Because, jeez, I’ve been stuck in mistrust for so long, but I’m ready to let that go. I want to lean into the relationships that feel real, reciprocal, and meaningful.

The ones where I can show up on my worst days, and they’ll still want me there.

The ones where I can be messy.