I’ve always been a big believer in motivational quotes. As corny as it sounds, they really get me going—especially when paired with the right music.
I’m big on TikTok. Maybe that says something about my attention span, but honestly, it’s entertaining. The other day, I came across a video about being afraid to be seen. And I don’t think it was a coincidence—I believe everything happens for a reason. So, there must be a reason that video found me, right?
Something I’ve always said about dating is: “To be seen is to be understood, and to be understood is to be loved.”
I think, deep down, we all crave that kind of deep understanding—the kind you read about in novels. To have someone truly know you. Know who you are at your core. What drives you, what holds you back. There’s a special kind of pride and comfort in being known that intimately, especially by the people closest to you. And not just in romantic relationships—any relationship, really.
Anyway, it got me thinking.
I work hard. And I work hard to stay under the radar. I don’t like to stand out too much. There’s a strange comfort in staying in the shadows—it feels safe there. There’s no pressure, no performance. No pretending to be someone I’m not. I don’t have to try too hard or act differently. It’s easy.
But here’s the ironic part: I want so badly to be seen. To be really seen. For who I am, for what I bring to the table, for everything I’ve quietly worked for. And yet, I try just as hard to hide away. It’s like I’m constantly torn between this craving for recognition and this fear of exposure. I want the world to understand me—but I also want to shrink into the background where no one can judge me. It’s exhausting, trying to do both.
But maybe that’s the problem. If everything were easy, would we ever grow?
What I’m realizing is that I tend to shy away from the spotlight. It makes me uncomfortable. Unsteady. I can feel the heat rise from my toes to my face, my heart pounding, the sweat soaking through my shirt. It’s intense. It’s overwhelming.
But… am I holding myself back?
Am I limiting my own growth—personally and professionally—by choosing to stay small?
By not putting myself out there, am I blocking my own potential, my initiative, my future?
Is it really fear of the outcome?
Or is it something worse—fear that maybe I’m actually not good enough?
Here’s what I’m starting to believe: we were never meant to play small. There’s no shame in wanting to be seen, in owning your story, or in letting the world witness your light. Yes, it’s scary. Yes, it makes your heart race and your palms sweat. But sometimes the fear of being seen is really just the fear of being powerful. Of being capable. Of being more. So show up anyway. Let yourself be visible. Let yourself be known. You never know who’s waiting to see exactly who you are.
What would change in your life if you let yourself be fully seen—for real, without shrinking? Let me know in the comments. I’d love to hear your thoughts.
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