I Know The Feeling

When I was younger, I was extremely shy. I preferred observing over listening, taking in people’s features and quirks, noticing the ways they acted and interacted. I liked words, music and art, and I was very emotionally sensitive. It seemed to me at the time that others around me did not share these tendencies; thus, what are now some of my favorite qualities about myself were then the qualities that made me most insecure. That feeling of singularity was enough to make me wish my uniqueness away. 

Then, in middle school, I came across a quotation from Ralph Waldo Emerson: “Those who understand us enslave something in us.” That line changed my mindset: I began to see my uniqueness as a gift to be guarded. I took pride in the ways I was different, imagining that they set me apart in some essential way. I carried out this belief to a degree that became problematic, as it isolated me from others.

I think I can speak for us all when I say that we desire to be both mysterious and understood at once. However, we can begin to see the mystery in a relationship as a quality that is inherently desirable and that we must generate ourselves, rather than a quality that points to the higher beauty and wisdom of our Creator.

When we fall into this trap (guilty), we begin to chase after people who captivate us or who find us captivating, purely for the rush their presence gives us. We no longer see the mystery of another as a reflection of the Divine; rather, we degrade it to the level of a sensation that is temporarily alluring, but not sustaining. As a result, when a relationship built on mystique begins to deepen, we often realize it is lacking in substance – it leads not to understanding, but to boredom. 

What a blessing it is, on the other hand, to be truly understood by another. Far from being enslaving or limiting, it is freeing – it gives us the liberty to be our true selves and recognize that true self as a gift.  Understanding another requires depth, compassion, and care that does not deprive a relationship of mystery, but that allows mystery to continue thriving, as we see other people as the rich, complex miracles they are.  

C.S. Lewis writes that friendship “is born at the moment when one man says to another, ‘What!  You too?  I thought I was the only one.’”  The allure of new people can be absorbing, but it doesn’t sustain us like the comfort of being understood, knowing that our feelings are valid, valued and shared. 

Being deeply known by someone on earth is a process that requires great investment: the vulnerability and risk it entails can be scary, but the rewards can be great.  How much greater, then, are the rewards of belonging to a God who understands us more deeply than we could ever know ourselves.  In the presence of our Lord, we do not have to explain ourselves – not once.  Instead, we can raise our hands in gratitude for being created exactly as we are.

The blessing of being known and understood by brothers and sisters on earth is but a shadow of the depth of God’s knowledge of us.  He and His Blessed Mother repeat this message over and over again, such as in Luke 12:7, “Even the hairs of your head have been numbered,” or in Mary’s words to St. Faustina: “I know how much you suffer, but do not be afraid.  I share with you your suffering.”  Let us finish by meditating on the beginning of Psalm 139, asking our Lord for ever greater intimacy with Him, Who knows and loves us utterly: 

“LORD, you have probed me, you know me:

You know when I sit and stand;

You understand my thoughts from afar.

You sift through my travels and my rest;

With all my ways you are familiar.

Even before a word is on my tongue,

LORD, you know it all.”