Witnessed

The Quiet Courage of Being Seen and Seeing Others

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Photo by Xeyale Aliyeva on Unsplash

For much of my early life, I felt invisible and unseen—a reality often associated with living "in the closet." It's challenging to receive acknowledgment when we choose to hide ourselves away.

At gatherings with friends or family, it was my brother whom people always sought out for conversation. I was shy and reserved, unwilling to let myself be seen for fear of what others might see. If they discovered my secret, I could face rejection or abandonment. It felt much too high a risk.

Allowing ourselves to be witnessed is a profound step in our healing journey, especially after trauma has whispered that we are not enough or not worthy. As we seek wholeness, inviting others close enough to truly see us becomes essential. In the past, when sadness washed over me, I isolated myself, reluctant to expose my grief. Now, I ask myself, “Who can hold this with me?” It might be my partner, a friend, or even God. I’ve learned that I don’t have to bear my sadness alone. I've learned that to feel seen by just one person can mend even the most fractured heart.

We all feel the heartbreak of not being seen or loved; it’s a universal experience. We understand what it’s like to be overlooked. Witnessing another person is like taking a long, sacred breath, allowing them to relax into their wholeness. Being witnessed can provide deep healing for our souls and transform our lives.

What does it mean to truly witness one another? Will we allow ourselves to draw close enough to see and be seen—not just with our eyes but with our whole presence?

Think back to the last time you felt deeply seen and understood. When was the last time you extended this gift to someone else?

Are you willing to sit in silence with someone, listening to their words and attuning to their heart? Can you be present without the urge to fix anything, simply embracing their experience? Can you be still enough for them to feel your presence—a presence that communicates, “I’m here. I care. I honour you”?

To bear witness is to draw nearer and observe without judgment, offering another the chance to be truly known. And in setting aside our distractions, we open ourselves to the same knowing.

And yet, being witnessed is not without risk. It’s a courageous declaration: “I am here, and I will no longer hide.” It involves vulnerability and the willingness to be seen completely.

To witness requires us to pause and look closely at the world around us. We must set aside our busy lives to truly pay attention—to the flowers, the trees, the flowing water, the sky, the individual seeking change at the corner, or a child in need of comfort. Witnessing asks us to pause long enough to notice the sunlight catching on a leaf or the quiet ache behind someone’s smile.

When we allow ourselves to be witnessed, it’s like exhaling after holding our breath; we release the air we’ve kept trapped within us. Hiding takes a toll on our bodies. Our chests grow heavy, and our breaths become shallow, afraid to let anything flow free. But when we embrace our worthiness and let the curtains fall, we can release all that stale air.

As you navigate through life, are you looking down or looking up? Are you willing to meet Life’s gaze and witness both its beauty and its pain?

Life, like us, longs to be witnessed. When we meet the gaze of Life and refuse to look away, witnessing becomes reciprocal, allowing the energy to flow in and out freely.

How can we cultivate this for ourselves? How can we extend it to one another?

This is what it means to let ourselves be seen.

To be witnessed is to let the river of unconditional love wash over us. As I step into this river, I allow my shame, fear, and hesitation to be seen, letting them float away from me and release themselves in the shallows. Now, I float in the current of self-love and belonging, releasing a long sigh and declaring, "I am here."

With warmth & gratitude,
Brooke.