Do others see you as you see yourself?

"You would so be part of FEDRA!" was the cutting and slightly smug assertion launched at me, unprovoked, by my elder sister. It landed like a dagger, catching me totally off-guard, managing to pierce the chain mail of my mature, adult exterior and cutting the delicate skin of my inner child and sense of self.

The context of her remark was a late-night session in her house binge-watching The Last of Us with my teenage daughter and son. The fire was blazing energetically, candles were flickering with soft mood lighting illuminating the walls; it was a classic hygge ambiance, delightfully appealing to the senses.

We were cosily ensconced on a big squishy couch under heavy, pure wool rugs; the kind I still want to rub up against my face and inhale the smell like I used to as child while sucking my thumb. There were the remains of a glass of red wine on the side table. A mug of steaming tea in hand. Quality Street chocolate wrappers strewn everywhere.

Everything about the room was warm and glowing. And yet this throwaway comment from my big sis momentarily iced me to my core. I was shades of indignant, incredulous, outraged.

Hurt.

A little bit of extra context is probably needed here about the fictional FEDRA thing my sister was referring to:

In The Last of Us, FEDRA was a government agency in the United States, tasked with responding to disasters and managing emergencies. After the initial Cordyceps brain infection outbreak, FEDRA seized control of the U.S. government and armed forces to set up quarantine zones, imposing martial law and dissolving the other organs of state. FEDRA soldiers prevented citizens from leaving the city, subjected them to forced labour, and when supplies were low, restricted basic food rations. They often executed dissidents and criminals, or expelled them from the quarantine zones. The Washington Liberation Front compared FEDRA soldiers to fascists. - Source

So I'm guessing you can see why I was less than delighted at my elder sibling's less-than-affectionate assertion that I would fit right into this fictitious fascist apparatus.

"There is a grain of truth in every joke." - Sigmund Freud

Because even if it was just a joke, nothing is ever just a joke.

Behind every jibe in jest, underneath every teasing rejoinder, is an inkling of a deeper, subjective truth that the jester holds about the other person or the situation at hand.

You may have noticed that I have referred more than once to the fact that my sister is older than me. It's not an accident that I did that. It's because it's a significant contextual clue to understanding the relational dynamic at play.

Today, while I may be in my forties, a mother of three, an accomplished professional, a wanna-be surfer, an amateur drummer, a friend, a speaker, a writer ... all of those dimensions of me pale into insignificance in the fraternal sphere.

When I am with my brothers and sister, I am and will forever be "the little sister", the youngest sibling in a hierarchy of five.

The little sister has a set place in the family pecking order. She has a role that she was born into and that was carved out for her, on her behalf. She gets told things and given things that have already been tried and tested by her elders. What she doesn't get by default is the right to a different opinion. She is assumed to be certain things and expected to behave in a certain way from back in the days when we all shared a living space in the family home.

The little sister is who I am for them. It is the label I will carry until my dying day. But it's not who I am for me. And neither is it who I am for all the other people who have come to know me outside of my family.

Growing up in Ireland, I was a very rule-abiding child, nervous, quiet, and anxious about getting in trouble. I played things safe and did as I was told.

Like so many other girls, I learned to be "good". Compliant.

I learned it at my cost. And most of my growth journey has been unlearning what I had internalised in my formative years about my place in the world.

“You change the world by being yourself.” – Yoko Ono

Please don't misunderstand me. I was not mistreated in any way growing up. I was loved as a child. And I know I am loved as an adult.

But the reality is that none of us escape our childhoods unscathed, no matter how hard our families endeavoured to nurture us and how much material comfort was around us.

We are all damaged. Every single one of us. In our own singularly beautiful and unique way.

A less emotionally mature and self-aware version of me would have remained silently angry and resentful at my sister’s comment. I would have ruminated on the invisible injury I felt and built an even more hurtful narrative around it, unnecessarily inflicting more pain on myself by pouring the figurative equivalent of vinegar onto an emotional wound.

What I chose to do instead – and I call this a win – is to practice curiosity and compassion. I chose to wonder about how my sister sees me and why it’s so different from how I see myself.

When I would so naturally associate myself with the freedom-fighting Fireflys in The Last of Us, I wonder what she believes to be true about me that means she sees me strongly affiliated with the oppressive and morally reprehensible fascists of FEDRA.

Perhaps more importantly, I wonder what she believes to be true about herself.

Because the lens that she applies to me is the reflection of the lens she applies to her sense of self. She sees me through the prism of her own image. And therein lies the rub: the unconscious projection of our self onto those around us carries within it an inherent risk of refractive distortion of who those people truly are.

Are we truthful and accurate in how we perceive ourselves? Are we honest and charitable in the efforts we make to see and acknowledge the essence of other people?

Sawubona!

This Zulu greeting literally means “I see you.” More than words of politeness, sawubona recognizes the worth and dignity of each person.? It says, “I see the whole of you—your experiences, your passions, your pain, your strengths and weaknesses, and your future. You are valuable to me.”?

As part of my self-reflective practice, what I am trying to cultivate in myself is the mindset of Sawubona: a compassionate commitment to see people and value them for what they are, in all their splendid imperfection.

Not the version of them that I am used to and that keeps me comfortable. Not the ‘them’ I want them to be.

No. What they are.

I want to see the truth of people, I want to see below the surface, to understand what matters to them and what makes them tick. I won’t tell them that they’re wrong. I won’t make them feel small or ashamed. I will hold space for them and allow them to heal and grow.

I want to be for other people the person I want them to be for me.

I will be for others the person that I am for myself. If they let me.

So... Sawubona, friend.

I see you. I value you.

?AJ