Is Anyone Out There?
I’m not someone who requires a lot of validation. Indeed, I often struggle with getting validation because my mind kicks into higher level processing to understand it. Is the incoming gold genuine? Is it performative? Am I being humored? Is it in some way manipulative? I never just hear a compliment—I want to understand the underlying meaning. When it’s performative, I sort of shrug and move on. When it’s manipulative, I start to watch and observe for motive. When it’s genuine, I reflect on whether I had earned the gold, and I see to what extent I’m able to receive and accept it. Getting a compliment can be a lot of work!
At the same time, I do need some appreciation. I do not see this as a weakness or ego—I need to understand that what I’m doing matters to other human beings. When my husband was alive, we exchanged appreciation all the time—it was a natural part of our relationship, of our love language with each other. It did not need to look or sound grand--- I might say, the kitchen looks so beautiful! after my husband cleaned up my often scary cooking messes. Or he might tell me how beautiful the flowers are in the garden and the joy he gets from seeing butterflies flitting about. Often, the appreciation was no more than a thank you but that was enough. It’s not about being validated—it’s about being seen—it’s about the meaning that comes from knowing that at least 1 other person on the planet values you. With the loss of my husband came the loss of appreciation. Throughout my life, I have chased after it with acts of service, with showing up, with gifts and money, and it’s a pattern that reinforced itself with my husband’s death. I was not fully conscious that I was doing so but there was some peripheral awareness that doesn’t translate into words. Was this driven from a place where self-love was lacking? It’s a yes in part and also a no—it’s driven mostly from a deep need for there to be meaning in life. If no one cares what I do, then I struggle with whether that meaning exists. And yet, I think if I loved myself to the extent of my capacity for loving then the lack of appreciation would sting less.
I had made a 1-year commitment to accomplish something to a group. I met the commitment, and the reaction was meh. I walked away feeling devalued. I wasn’t sure how to talk to the group about it without imparting shame by implying they had done something wrong (or in this case, had not done something). What I’ve come to understand is that the devalued feeling is mostly an outpouring from the emptiness in my heart; an emptiness that deepened with my husband’s death. I felt like I was in a no win situation—I either spoke up, risked shaming others only to get appreciation that might have felt performative or I kept silent while resentment nibbled at the silence until it spread into a cancer. I had successfully boxed myself in, which is typically how an unhealthy pattern works. So I got a star for the awareness, but I remained stuck.
I tend to be all in or all out—when I care, I care deeply, with everything I have to offer. Was it time to withdraw in part or in full? I talked about it in a small circle of 3 brothers and another 1-1. With the 3 brothers, I could feel them taking in a little shame. Part of me went on alert wanting to undo any damage I was causing. They heard the data—there was unexpected awareness. And I received their genuine appreciation in a way more beautiful that I would have dreamed. And I realized that though I often feel alone, there are others out there who do see me even though it may be out of sight most of the time. But for now that is enough—to understand that there is meaning however small to what I do—to know that there is someone out there who cares.
