Our public self, our hidden self.

Leisa Tanner

19 Dec 2010

Recently a friend of mine went to a workshop which , amongst many things, offered participants an opportunity to explore who they are. It was fascinating to listen to my friend share her experience of this activity because it wasn’t simply a ‘what do you like, who are you married to, what do you do’ kind of activity. Rather it invited participants to decorate a shoe box. On the outside, my friend was invited to decorate it in a manner to express the side of herself that she shows to other people, in essence her public self. The inside however was to be something different – it was the parts of her that are kept hidden, that others might not know about her. I was fascinated, and moved, as she shared with me the parts on the inside of her box which she keeps hidden and yet are very real, powerful parts of who she is.

From listening to her experience of this activity , a few things stayed with me and caused me to reflect upon them for many days afterwards. Firstly, it struck me that my dear friend whom I have known for the better part of my life still had the capacity to surprise me. She revealed parts of herself, which she deemed her public self, which surprised me and that I hadn’t been conscious of. It reminded me how incredibly complex people are. You see my friend and I are not just acquaintances, but rather very close friends who regularly share our deepest thoughts with each other. We have witnessed each other’s most painful passages in life over many, many years. And yet, she still could surprise me. The parts of herself that she liked to reveal to the world were aspects of her personality that didn’t draw my attention . They didn’t serve to make her anymore , or any less, lovable to me.

Secondly, parts of herself that she felt were hidden away, her private self, were in fact known to me. Aspects of her psychological makeup that she had kept hidden perhaps out of fear of what other’s might think of them, or perhaps because of her own desire to remove those parts of her self from her psyche, were in fact parts of her that not only have I known of for many years, but are some of the parts I love most about her. They add a richness to who she is, a complexity that I treasure.

This activity resonated with me on many levels and gave me pause to reflect on the complexity of who we all are. We all have a public self, and a hidden self. Psychotherapists have written hundreds of articles about such a dichotomy and have given it many names : our ‘false self, true self’, our ‘shadow’ amongst others. Yet, regardless what it is called, each speaks of the fact that as humans we are complex, we all are struggling to make sense of who we are and we all at any given time, either consciously or unconsciously are trying to present a more lovable public self and suppress the parts of ourselves which we feel are painful, damaged, less socially appropriate, more primitive or just difficult. We assume that we are successful in keeping these parts of ourselves hidden yet , as with my dear friend, they may in fact be parts of us that are not only visible but are valued by others.

As this year draws to a close and another decade beckons, I am going to give pause and reflect on this activity and how it speaks to us of the complexity of who we are, and who others are. What parts of ourselves do we strive to present to the world to garner social acceptance, and what parts of ourselves are kept hidden …from others and from ourselves? What might it be like if I revealed some of those hidden parts – who in my world could tolerate them? Could I tolerate bringing them out into the light? Perhaps in bringing them out of the darkness, the hold of these ‘less owned’ parts of ourselves would in fact appear less threatening and in fact just add to the richness , the complexity of who each of us is as we strive to live, exist and make meaning in our own messy, imperfect lives.And finally I want to reflect upon the parts of my persona that I strive to bring forth , my public self. Are they necessary? And are they a true reflection of who I am or my attempts to be validated and approved of by others? My sense is that by engaging in this process, much akin to that engaged in within therapy, each of us is offered a chance to reflect , own and forgive the parts of ourselves which form who we are , whether they be our public masks or that which is hidden in the dark. The result may well be a more integrated self, a person who presents to the world a true reflection of who we are – not just what we believe others want to see.        

We all need to feel that we matter…

Leisa Tanner

A truth that has become more and more real to me in recent years is the knowledge that what we as people often long for, deeply, is to know that we matter. To know that we matter to others, to this world, to our community. To know that we have a place. To know that we have worth.

In the scheme of essential needs that we carry into this life , knowing that we matter doesn’t often rate a mention. We know we need water and food to survive, shelter to be comfortable, air to breathe. These are all tangible things and therefore much easier to articulate. Yet, as we travel our life’s journey and all of the ups and downs it contains, what seems to be just as important to our well-being and our mental health is the deep knowing that we matter to someone. Yet it can be hard to recognise this need because it can often be lost within a myriad of other emotions and self-beliefs. As I think about the therapeutic process and my own journey of growth what has come to be real for me is a knowledge that under many of the so called ‘negative’ emotions like sadness, anger, loneliness and despair is a feeling that we do not matter. That we are unimportant or invisible.

Perhaps it’s our human nature, but what I have noticed is that we often spend many years trying to matter to those whose response to us  is of indifference or rejection and that these rejections can wound us deeply. How many of us carry around scars from rejections and abandonments we suffered in childhood and adolescence? From the schoolyard bully who aggressively conveyed to us ‘you are nothing’ to the emotionally unavailable partner who with every action communicated that we weren’t loveable enough, we can find ourselves believing the notion that we do not matter. Sadly, as we come to believe this message and allow it to define who we are and the way we relate to others, we fail to notice the people around us who value us intrinsically. To whom our absence would be felt.

One of the gifts of getting older and gaining new wisdom is that we slowly can learn that what matters is not what others think of us but what we ourselves think of us. Do we matter to ourselves?? Do we treat ourselves with value and respect?   We also learn to recognise that our value is not in our beauty, what we have, how much we earn, or what we own but in our values, our traits, our spirit. Over time what matters changes – no longer do we worry about looking right, having hundreds of friends, or climbing the corporate ladder. With wisdom it is real connections with others that matter, and it is a real connection with myself that gives even more contentment. When we arrive at that place where we have no longer ‘owned’ the definitions that others place on us, we can notice the connections we have with others which are meaningful. What’s interesting to me is that these don’t always have to be in the context of a deep relationship or friendship. Sometimes it is in the small encounters with others that we can recognise that we matter, that our presence on this earth is important. A shared smile, an unexpected kindness, leaving each encounter with another, where possible, with a sense of ease between you….these are the things that more and more I find breathtakingly meaningful and which if we notice them enough, can deeply satisfy the need that we all carry ; to know that we matter. 

November, 2010