Thoughts From My Table

To Be Seen

There are days when I wonder what it really means to be seen.
Not the kind of seeing that notices your outfit or your smile,
but the kind that recognizes your soul —
the quiet ache, the shifting light, the parts of you that words don’t always reach.

Sometimes, I feel like no one truly sees me.
Yes, people see the body standing in front of them.
They see me doing, showing up, leading —
but do they see the me underneath it all?
The one still learning, still healing, still becoming?

If I’m honest, I don’t think I see me all the way either.
At least not in one view.
I feel like a faceted piece of glass — depending on the angle, a different light catches, a new shape appears.
But I’m not sure anymore which reflection is truly me and which one is just what I’ve learned to show.

There are moments when I catch glimpses of myself and hardly recognize her.
Some of that I welcome — because growth always brings change.
But other parts make me pause, wondering where the familiar version of me went.
I find myself hoping for her reappearance — the one who felt lighter, more certain, or maybe just more known.

Lately, I’ve even avoided looking too closely at my reflection.
Not sure if I like what I see — or if it’s just that I don’t know this new person yet.
She’s different.
Her eyes carry both strength and sadness, and sometimes I can’t tell which one is leading.
There’s a distance between who I was and who’s standing here now.

Maybe that’s part of change — losing sight of the version you were comfortable with
before you learn to love the one you’re becoming.

So, for now, I’m standing here — unsure, uncomfortable, but still looking.
Because even if I’m not sure if I like her yet, I owe it to her to see her.

Maybe that’s what transformation looks like —
not instantly loving every version of yourself,
but standing long enough to see her clearly.

To notice her without judgment.
To make peace with the parts that feel foreign.
And to trust that, in time, love will catch up to recognition.

Maybe the mirror isn’t showing me someone lost,
but someone new.
And maybe the work isn’t to search for who I was —
but to welcome who I’m becoming.

When you look at yourself lately, what do you see?
Can you stand long enough to notice — not to fix, not to compare —
but simply to see the woman emerging, even if you’re not sure you like her yet?