It’s about perspective

A few years ago, my daughter and I built a wooden perch for Ink so she’d be able to look out the window when we’re hanging out in the basement. The windows are high on the wall as the room is mostly underground. The perch has a few stairs that lead to a landing with a view out the window that sits flush with the grass outside. She loves her perch. Now that Spring is officially here, her seat is warmed by the sun in the mornings. This week while I worked at my desk beside her window, I noticed her nipping at the edge the fuzzy bed on top. Because of the awkwardly steep steps (they are more like a step ladder than a staircase) she seemed precarious as she tried to pull the large bed off of the landing with her front teeth. I got up from my desk and removed the bed for her, placing it on the ground out of the sun. She climbed the rest of the stairs and laid down on the cool plywood. She knows I do not like dog kisses, but she offered a gentle one to the tip of my nose anyway. She looked into my eyes for a long moment afterward. I think she was trying to let me know that I had provided exactly what she needed. I had made her feel seen. The effort was minimal on my part. All I did was know that she loves to sit on her perch with I’m working, and that she gets hot easily but still loves the sunshine, and remember that the steps are tricky for her to navigate, and notice that she was pulling at the bed with her teeth, and think about what she might be trying to do, and stop working for a moment to go take the bed down for her. Separately nothing stands out as extraordinary, but put together it earned me a kiss that could not be contained.

I wonder if there is something special between me and Ink that lets me see her the way I do. Is it the same way everyone else sees her? Could anyone have guessed her intentions with the bed? I know her pretty well. I spend a lot of time with her and I’ve raised her since she was just a baby. When I am working at my desk, I feel her presence with me even when she is asleep, and I know when she has wandered upstairs without watching her go. Maybe my kids could’ve figured out what she needed, but would they have been paying attention to the dog when the TV is in the same room? Could they have seen her the way I did?

Recently I had the experience of being “seen” by someone when I wasn’t expecting it. If I told you what happened that made me feel seen, I wouldn’t be able to disclose anything significant to convey an understanding of me, but if you’ve been fortunate enough to experience this feeling, you know that it is unmistakable. What is it that we feel? What is it that they see?

It was an ordinary moment of life and I was recognized for exactly who I am by someone who cares about me. I know they care because seeing the subtleties in my character that day meant they had put in the time. They listened carefully. They noted the way I positioned my hand when I am deep in thought and they observed the way I bite my lip when I’m anxious. They knew enough about my moods to know all the moods I was not in. They had been paying close attention for a long while. They paid attention even when I wasn’t aware they were. Then they used all the information they collected to demonstrate they understood me just so that I would know that they did. To feel seen is to feel all of that in a single moment.

I don’t often let myself be seen. I hide. In my past experiences, being seen meant being ridiculed and so it was better to go unnoticed. But I’ve been working hard to love who I am even if others don’t and it’s made me realize how much work it is to keep myself hidden from everyone else. I’ve grown tired of hiding from the world. Little by little, I’ve been revealing parts of myself. I’ve learned that there is a possibility that instead of being ridiculed, I might be celebrated for existing as I do. I’ve learned that being seen can feel good. That’s how I felt that day. At first, I felt astonished at their recognition. I was used to being invisible. It felt a little like they had performed a magic trick. But the disbelief quickly gave way to a feeling of affirmation, and appreciation, and being cherished for being exactly who I am. I felt loved.

We can convey so much to each other in a few words. Sometimes, even no words at all. A spouse sets a cup of coffee in front of their partner with the cream and sugar just right. Paragraphs of meaning could be derived from that simple action. Past conversations are implied. There is history between them and the textbook is the mug. The right gesture becomes acknowledgement of existence. How are we able to do that for each other? Why? When I moved the bed for Ink, I did it because I love her. I knew she wouldn’t die if she wasn’t able to sunbathe comfortably, but I wanted comfort for her anyway. I wanted to reduce her suffering, however slight. I wanted her to know that I cared about her, that I was there to help, and that I was paying attention to what she needed. That’s what you do for creatures you love.