A Series: Lessons I Learned Teaching in My 20s
To be misunderstood = the worst feeling in the world
When your job requires you to interact with people from all across the spectrum, in terms of ideologies, upbringing, and communication styles, you often experience the woes of being misunderstood.
For me, there’s no feeling worse than a translation error. You communicate, to the best of your ability, as clearly as possible, but it still doesn’t land. They decipher it through a language you don’t recognize, and so much genuineness gets lost in the translation.
There are people, no matter how hard you try to explain, break down, or reword, who will always be committed to the version of you in their head. They will find ways, no matter how far-fetched, to make sense of the conclusions they are already determined to reach.
I used to get soooo frustrated, always going to the ends of the ends trying to explain myself. When I’m misheard, it lights a fire within me that burns my insides to death. I don’t feel better until what I mean resonates. It’s so important for me to be seen as I am, not as any version unjustly imposed on me.
It mattered to me—their impression of me. If they dressed me in a mask that didn’t fit, that wasn’t mine, I’d scrub it off feverishly until my skin bled—just for them to see what I believe is the real me.
The irony isn't lost on me: losing pieces of myself just to show you me. Exposing my vulnerabilities, undressing all my layers, giving them an unobstructed, bird’s-eye view of who I am. Only to set the perfect target shot. Voluntarily walking into the line of fire under the pretense of standing up for what I believe in—just to surrender myself to their predatory claims.
Shots fired.
And I walk away carrying nothing but losses and the burden of recovering.
I tried so hard to show you, but
you still can’t see me.
With time, I realized—there’s no point.
It doesn’t matter how much you say, how much you do, how many different ways you show them who you are.
Their hearts are blind to you.
There are so many reasons for that, but it’s almost always a projection. If they cannot see the genuineness between the lines, it’s because they themselves always operate with an agenda.
If they doubt your kindness, it’s because they don’t know what kindness is.
If they do not feel your love, it’s because they are not capable of loving themselves.
I no longer fight battles I’m guaranteed to lose—not even for the symbolism of it.
I let them.
See what you want to see.
Hear what you want to hear.
As long as I go to bed every night knowing I am committed to the version of myself I aspire to be.
That I didn’t hurt anyone intentionally.
That I didn’t deliberately break any of my values.
That I was kind to everyone and everything.
I can rest easy with that.
That being said, there’s nothing more beautiful than being effortlessly understood.
Without having to put in so much effort and time to show who you are—being seen instantly and accurately.
Someone who just knows you, even without actually knowing you.
Someone who is sure about you, even when you doubt yourself.
Someone who doesn’t just look at you, but looks into you.
It’s terrifying to be this exposed,
but it’s the most beautiful feeling in the world to be this exposed—and seen.
To be understood
is to be loved.
At least, it’s the kind of love I want and seek.
To those who love me not for what I do for them, but for who I am—
Thank you for seeing me.
