Most of us suffer a crisis of loneliness at one time or another; sometimes, it's a constant unseen presence by our side. After all, who really knows the things that make my heart pound or skin prickle, and the thoughts that haunt me in the middle of the night? Who knows my doubts and shame, my laundry list of regrets?
I'm a therapist, so it's my role to ask questions as I work to get to know a person. It's my job to see each individual, connect, and get to know them as fully as possible. It takes time, and I start with the most basic, "Tell me about yourself." I may learn more about them in an hour than they've shared with any friend or family member, or it may be a slower unfolding process.
At some point, I ask, "How many people fully understand you? Who really grasps your hopes, dreams, and fears?"
Ninety percent of people respond, "No one really knows me."
The sadness hits me in the chest because I've felt the same way. It's a universal human desire to be understood and seen. It's a fundamental part of our humanity to seek connection. And it's a shared experience to live with these needs unmet.
I have my clients draw concentric circles in exploring social support and intimacy. They write their name on the center circle. This is surrounded by circles moving outward, each representing degrees of intimacy. The first circle moving out from the center contains the names of those who know us most intimately — most often, this is a best friend, spouse, or partner. The subsequent circles moving outward are those who know us to varying degrees, from those we would trust as confidantes to those we hold at a friendly but superficial level. Like most things, intimacy exists on a spectrum and fluctuates over time.
It's common for the innermost circles to be vacant. Sometimes, the entire page is blank. It's particularly sad when a person has been with a partner for many years, but the partner is absent from the page.
It takes work to know another person fully. We are often mysteries to ourselves.
Each human being is a unique and complex result of our genetics, environment, and experience intertwining. This includes our ancestors' physical and psychological genetic traits, worldviews, and culture. There are influences in the prenatal environment of our mother's womb, how we were cared for as children, how we learn to communicate and bond with others, the foods we eat, and the water we drink. The family system taught us our place in the home and the larger community where we lived; our social class, racial, ethnic, gender, and religious identities determine our options. Our school experiences and the way teachers and peers treated us sticks with us in some form forever. All these forces—and more—impact our development. Together they form our perceptions that determine the stories of our lives and, ultimately, how we move through the world.
And we are constantly changing in response to these factors, many entirely outside our awareness and control. We flux in response to our stress levels, the political climate, our hormones, and the substances we consume.
When I'm working with someone whose problems are overwhelming, I struggle with my internal sense of pressure to help them work out solutions. I love helping people find their way out of pain. It's uncomfortable to face my helplessness when there is no solution for many circumstances.
I recently had a client with such incredible difficulties in every area of her life I struggled with what I could do to help. There is no magic bullet therapy tool or technique that can impact her circumstances or symptoms, many of which are related to her physical health and financial needs. I discussed this with her — my concern was that I couldn't offer much that would provide relief. Her response was immediate: "You cannot imagine how helpful this is — I have never before felt so seen. It means the world to me that you see me."
Then I remembered the therapists in my life who had really seen me, and I relaxed in my role as a witness. Witnesses, by the very act of their presence, bring comfort. Being seen brings healing even when there are no solutions.
This has been a core aspect of psychotherapy since Freud began listening to dreams. We've known that therapists who bring unconditional positive regard, a healing presence, and hope to their clients do good. We now have a better understanding of the science behind this.
Interpersonal neurobiology (IPNB) is the interdisciplinary science of the relational underpinnings of the human mind. IPNB defines the "mind" as emerging from a relational process occurring between people as they interact. Through a process called "neuroplasticity," our minds are reshaped by our experiences and relationships with others. Early theories of human development were based upon the premise that our minds were formed in early childhood and were not significantly changed after that. We now realize that though the initial process is established in childhood, mind development doesn't stop there; relationships remain impactful throughout our lives. As our relationships change, so do our nervous systems in an ever-evolving process. The right kind of relationship heals; the wrong type damages.
For more on IPNB, see The Developing Mind by Dan Siegel.
Of course, therapists can and should offer more than serving as a witness. That's simply the foundation of the work. Our toolbox has dozens of tools to help people grow, heal, learn, and move toward their goals. Many skills can be taught that reduce suffering. Sound therapy is never passive. It involves educating, teaching, modeling and inspiring. But it starts with being present in a way that allows another person to feel seen. And that alone is challenging work.
Healing happens wherever we find nurturing relationships, but building an intimate inner circle can be an elusive process. It doesn't come easy to most of us; sometimes, it's a matter of chance. We may meet someone, and there's just a click, a sense of commonality, mutual ease, and insight. We get each other. Often it only happens with conscious effort.
This is one reason for the popularity of social media. Social media is one way we see each other for all its flaws and missteps. It's a way of connecting, of serving as witnesses. I've been on social media for over two decades and have made many inner-circle friendships. I've gone through births, deaths, marriages, and every kind of life experience imaginable with people I've grown intimate with though never met in person. People form support groups on Facebook, sharing deeply personal thoughts, feelings, and struggles that they can't share anywhere else.
When used intentionally, social media offers a way to connect with others and thoughtfully manage levels of intimacy. The key here is intentionality. We can curate our newsfeed to see content from quality people who inspire us. We can use wisdom in building only supportive connections. It works well, at least for some of the people, some of the time. There's great potential for the mindful use of social media in the future. It's another tool in the toolbox that keeps us from being alone with our ruminations in the middle of the night.
Very well written and thoughtful piece. One rather odd response as I considered the question, who really understands me? I would put the whole world in the inner circle or, perhaps more precisely, anyone who comes in contact with me in certain degrees of interaction and then the frequency and length of those interactions. I would be curious about whether anyone else had have ever responded that way, rather than listing names.
For me the question is about who spends time, the duration, frequency, and the quality, the context of the interactions, and that translates into the Who's Who! That took me about five seconds to come up with, too, going immediately from, Of course everyone really knows me to, Wait, except if they never experienced me. And why is that? Why do I think of it that way?
I believe part of our purpose as human beings is to maximize our experiences with each other appropriately in the social situations, the contexts we interact. "Interact" is a lousy word, but the concept is not as simple as it may seem. "Maximize" also is confusing. We are not living together to overwhelm one another. Sometimes maximizing our impact has to do with allowing others to dominate the interaction, and it is not about pleasing either. It is about understanding who we are in all situations and being our authentic self while respecting the situations of others.
I like to believe the way I move through the physical spaces of my day, in bed asleep, and alone in my apartment going about my solitary tasks with the memories of my father and mother, my sisters and extended family and friends; and driving on the freeway and doing my job at work, and even just the way I walk in the supermarket without saying a word to anyone (hard to believe, huh?) expresses something others can sense.
By giving others their space while occupying our own as we happen to be is the greatest part of maximizing. Perhaps "optimizing" is a more precise word. It is the only way I know to be understood relative to others properly. Even when someone looks at me a way I would not own, I know that is because of what's going on with him or her, and I accept that and them. What else can I do? Now, you see, here I've posted on your post. Forgive me.