To Be Loved Is to Be Seen: A Journey to Self-Love

To Be Loved Is to Be Seen: A Journey to Self-Love

For years, I wanted to be invisible. I wanted to hide; I didn’t want to be seen because it was met with resistance. It wasn’t a conscious decision but rather a gradual survival mechanism, the result of years spent navigating abusive relationships and the toxicity of certain family members. When the very people who are supposed to love and protect you become the ones who cause harm, it warps your sense of self. You start to believe that invisibility is the answer—that if you make yourself small enough, quiet enough, unnoticeable enough, you might escape the discomfort. But invisibility comes at a cost. It strips away the very essence of being seen, of being loved for who you truly are.

The Impact of Abusive Relationships on Self-Perception

In abusive relationships, the balance of power is distorted. One person controls, manipulates, and demeans while the other is left in a constant state of self-doubt. Over time, this erosion of self-worth becomes so profound that it alters how you see yourself and your place in the world. Abusers often use tactics like gaslighting to make their victims question their reality. They might say things like, “You’re too sensitive” or “This is all your fault,” until those lies become truths in your mind. I internalized these messages, and after the exhaustion of standing up for myself, I learned to disappear—to take up less space, to hide my emotions, and to silence my voice.

It was a form of self-protection. If I could make myself invisible, perhaps I could avoid the next wave of cruelty. But in doing so, I also disconnected from myself. I stopped seeing my own value, my own beauty, my own right to exist fully in the world.

The Toll of Toxic Family Dynamics

Family is supposed to be a source of love, acceptance, and belonging. But when family members are toxic, that dynamic is flipped on its head. Toxic families often operate on a foundation of control, manipulation, and emotional neglect. They impose unspoken rules about how love must be earned, how approval is conditional, and how stepping out of line results in rejection, abandonment, or punishment. For me, the message was clear: being myself wasn’t enough; in fact, it was too much. I had to shape-shift, contort, and diminish myself to fit the family narrative.

I remember moments when I desperately wanted to be seen for who I truly was. Not as a reflection of someone else’s expectations, not as the scapegoat or the “problem,” but as my own person, deserving of love simply because I existed. Yet, every time I tried to step into that light, I was met with resistance—dismissed, ignored, or worse, attacked. So, I retreated into invisibility, telling myself it was better this way. It felt safer to be unseen than to risk more rejection.

The Desire for Invisibility

The desire to be invisible is often rooted in fear—fear of judgment, rejection, or being hurt again. However, for me, invisibility didn’t just shelter me from harm—it became a source of strength and freedom. The more I stepped away from the expectations and demands of others, the more I discovered a sense of autonomy. Rather than losing sight of my needs and desires, I found clarity. I wasn't becoming a shell of myself; I was reclaiming my power. In the quiet solitude of invisibility, I connected with my true identity, not shaped by survival, but by the freedom to define myself on my own terms.

The Urge to Escape

Invisibility wasn’t the only response. As time went on, I developed a constant urge to keep moving, to get as far away as possible from the sources of pain. Whether through physically relocating or distancing myself emotionally, I believed that distance would protect me. Not only did I want to be unseen, but I also wanted to be unreachable—convinced that the further I went, the safer I’d be.

The desire to be far away comes from the same fear that fuels invisibility. But instead of hiding, it manifests as a need to flee, to put space between me and the pain. I spent years believing that if I could just escape, I’d be free. I relocated, distanced myself from toxic relationships, and sought new environments, thinking that if I could change my surroundings, I’d change how I felt.

Emotional and Physical Distance

But distance—whether physical or emotional—offers only temporary relief. No matter how far I went, the unresolved emotions and trauma came with me. Moving didn’t heal the scars; it merely delayed the inevitable. The real work, the true healing, had to be done within.

I realized that running away wasn’t enough. I could leave toxic people behind, but I couldn’t leave behind the beliefs they had ingrained in me: that I was unworthy, that I didn’t deserve to be seen, that love was conditional. The further I ran, the more I realized I was still carrying those wounds, and until I faced them, no amount of distance would free me.

It took time to understand that my constant need for distance was a defense mechanism. It felt easier to escape than to face the deep emotional work required to heal. But over time, I realized that I had to stop running, stop moving, and sit with the pain if I ever wanted to heal from it.

The Power of Being Seen

To be loved is to be seen. Genuine love is not conditional. It doesn’t demand that you change who you are to fit someone else’s vision or expectations. It doesn’t require you to make yourself smaller or quieter. Instead, true love allows you to be fully present, fully yourself, and fully seen. It accepts you as you are—perfectly flawed.

When I began to emerge from hiding, it wasn’t because someone else finally saw me. It was because I started to see myself. I realized that I had been waiting for others to validate my existence, to offer me the love and acceptance I craved. But the truth is, that kind of love has to start within. No one can see you if you don’t first see yourself.

Reclaiming Visibility

Reclaiming visibility is a radical act of self-love. It’s saying, “I deserve to be here. I deserve to be seen. I deserve to be loved.” It’s a process of shedding the layers of invisibility that were placed on you by others and stepping into the light of your own truth. This doesn’t mean that the fear or the pain instantly disappear, but it does mean that you no longer allow those feelings to dictate how you show up in the world.

As I began to reclaim my visibility, I noticed something profound: the more I saw myself, the more others saw me too. The relationships that once felt suffocating began to shift, and those that couldn’t accommodate my full presence fell away. I found that being seen wasn’t just about how others perceived me; it was about how I perceived myself. When I stopped hiding, I began to attract the kind of love and connection that honored my true self.

To Be Loved Is to Be Seen: A Journey to Self-Love

To be loved is to be seen, and to be seen is to be loved. These two experiences are intertwined, and neither can fully exist without the other. Love, in its truest form, is not about perfection or meeting someone else’s standards. It’s about being seen for who you are—flaws, vulnerabilities, and all—and being embraced in that fullness.

The journey from invisibility to visibility is ultimately a journey toward love. It’s about stepping out from the shadows of fear, shame, and self-doubt and into the light of self-acceptance. It’s about recognizing that you are worthy of being seen, not because of what you do or how well you meet someone else’s expectations, but simply because you are.

Through my experiences, I have gained a profound sense of empathy, which fuels my commitment to helping others on their journey to strength and emotional freedom. In the end, to be loved is to be seen. Not just by others, but most importantly, by yourself. So, if you’re too much for some people, let them find less.

© 2024 Ciann Masi and OM& Soul Productions. All rights reserved. Unauthorized use or reproduction of this material is prohibited.