You were known. You were seen. You were here.


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“I think I’ve lost my life again,” I told her, twirling the stem of my wine glass as I talked. “That, or I don’t know how to be alone anymore. I used to actually be good at that.”

There it was, my chunk of honesty sitting square on the table between two heaping bowls of clams and pasta. I had to say it out loud. It was the kind of thing you say out loud or else you risk exploding from the inside out.

She just smiled. And said amen.

I wish we all had this kind of friend. The kind of friend where you can just word vomit everything you’ve been feeling and they don’t say much or tell you that you’re wrong to feel that way. They just show up with a mop. And they nod their head a lot. And you feel less alone, but like you’ve gotten something off your chest. You’ve finally told it to someone who holds these fragile secrets inside of you like fine china.

That might have been the only thing I needed to say all dinner. But I needed to say it out loud: I’m afraid of losing my life to things that don’t actually matter.

My best friend and I went on a short vacation this past week. We took two days to enjoy the sights of Raleigh, North Carolina, and then we attended a conference that serves as both a refresher and a restart button for small business owners.

Our trip had all the stitchings of the kind of things you know you’ll remember for years to come. A beautiful hotel right in the heart of Chapel Hill. Cookies when you check in. Long coffee dates with no email. Sitting on the hotel beds, surrounded by more pillows than what is really necessary for a single person, talking for hours about life. And dreams. And goals. And hopes. The chance to finally look around and notice things that seem too insignificant to really see when you’re slung in the muds of everyday life– the colors of mailboxes. The way the rain smells and steams off the pavement in Raleigh. The crooked grins of beautiful boys in blue polo shirts who park your car in straight lines.

The both of us wondered why it took so long. At that table with the clams, we wondered that. Why it always seems to take so long for us to just unplug and unclutter and look up to see that life wasn’t happening on a screen anyway. We get real good at convincing ourselves that life is everything that is happening in those screenshots and those retweets. But if you just look up for 5 minutes– if you catch the shade of blue in someone else’s eyes today– you’ll see that you were wrong to think that.

It’s hard to even imagine it but there used to be a time when moments were just moments. When you saw him from across a crowded room and he gave you a glance that only you could pocket and that one shot of a smile was yours, all yours. It wasn’t publlic. It wasn’t filtered. It was sacred. A connection.

I guess I don’t know what happened. I guess I don’t know how I lost my life to this– and how everything came undone and unbalanced. But I know it happened once before. Years ago, there was a time in the earlier stages of More Love Letters when I treated that company like she was everything. I was always connected. I was always scaling to-do lists. I was barely sleeping. I was living each day with a slew of wrecking ball habits and I was the one who crawled to the finish line of each midnight hour and wondered why I felt so empty. So drained. Unhappy.

And I wondered why– when it should have been so easy to just roll over and fall asleep– I’d keep the phone clutched in my hand and I would scroll and scroll and scroll through the thoughts and images of other people, absorbing their fragmented glimpses of daily life, like old hymns you read with the hope you’ll find yourself known inside of them.

I’d wake up and I wouldn’t even push the yellow, quilted blanket from around my legs before I was checking in and seeing where I’d been missed or mentioned the night before. Honestly, I don’t know how it happened but I guess that doesn’t matter if you know why it did. It isn’t that I wanted followers. It isn’t that I wanted numbers or another mention. I just didn’t want to have to be alone. I just didn’t want to have to sit by myself.

It’s like this vacant warehouse inside of me. I used to think it was a tiny hole and now I see that it is a warehouse. So much square footage. A hollow space inside of me that wants to be known. And seen. And valued. And I hate standing in the center of it alone.

So I look for things to fill that space. I look for the wrong things. Like social media. I let social media try to sooth the parts of me that whisper, “I want to be seen. I want to be known. I want to be more than just a face in the crowd. I want to be stunning. And lovely. I want to be validated for who I choose to be.” I try to let social media do that filling job for me. And then I wonder why I am surprised to find that warehouse inside of me feels more empty instead of full.

Because nothing about the life that gets lived on the screen is really real. Sure, from time to time it can be a blessing but it isn’t really quality. It’s just a lot of quantity. It’s just a lot of trying to fill the hunger on the inside with followers and emails that say, “please respond by tomorrow because we need this.” And so we do, because it’s nice to be needed. But it’s just a lot of empty measurements– a lot of empty measuring cups of false self-worth– that keep me spinning on my toes. And keep me singing out loud to the world, “This whole life revolves around me. It revolves around me. My life matters. Me, me, me.”

I think that’s what social media really does these days. More than it connects us. It claims to bring us together but I think we’re too distracted to see that it’s ripping us away from the one thing that really matters: each other. And how much we desperately need to show up for one another.

In the middle of the conference they had us all get up from our seats and find a space on the floor to lie down. Spread out our legs. Close our eyes. Don’t move. Don’t flinch. Don’t let our heads get cluttered with the “must-do”s for the evening. And they told us to imagine– to build a picture in our mind– of what we wanted life to be like in 5 years from now.

And normally I find these kinds of exercises to be cheesy. But I was exhausted. And laying on the floor of the hotel ballroom in Chapel Hill, North Carolina, I started to weep. And my chest was heaving. And they just kept telling us to dig deeper and see more details. What do you see? What do you see? Like a trigger pulled, I came undone.

Because I saw him. I saw us. Sitting side by side on a countertop, bare feet and legs swinging. There was no urgency in the moment. There was no other place to be. My head was on his shoulder. The only light in the room was the white lights of Christmas that we never bothered to take down off the windows. And my favorite song was floating all around us, it had come up randomly on a Pandora station. And I realized in that moment, he was exactly the kind of guy I always hoped I would fall in love with: the kind of guy who doesn’t say a word when your favorite song is on because he knows how much you like to try and live inside of every word.

It was just us. No phones. No notifications. No need to document that we were here because you’d only ever have to ask the other person in the room– ask them if it was real– for them to answer you with all the confidence in the world, “Yes, it was real.” You were known. You were seen. “You were definitely, definitely here.”

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21 thoughts on “You were known. You were seen. You were here.

  1. As my own life slowly falls apart and I attempt to rebuild it, I too have discovered how much I loath social media and cell phones as a whole. Sitting with family and friends all plugged into an object that has no real meanings. The moments that have made me the happiest do not have people plugged into their phones, they were in a time before we advertised our every move on social media. I think I cry for those moments, afraid that they will never happen again. Slowly I’ve deleted different social media accounts and discovered that I can live with out them. I’ve realized I have something to discuss with people again- because I haven’t already seen the news online. I’ve actually started seeing people again, they call because they need to talk to me- I can’t get an instant update now that I’ve unplugged. And honestly- I love it.

    1. Wow, Kymberly, I’m so glad I came across your comment. I’ve been meaning to do this forever, and I didn’t know how it would be. I’m glad to know you’ve rediscovered so much meaning in your life after you let go of the social media fever. Perhaps I’ll be able to do this one day! I live in hope!

  2. Hannah,

    Thank you so so much for this post. Your writing is exquisite and I was captured in every sentence – honestly, it’s like your words were about to articulate what my soul has been feeling. Keep writing. Keep bleeding on paper. Keep going. We need more honesty like this.

    Thank you. Xx ___________________________________________ ELYSE MURPHY Young Adults Director @elysemurphy | OasisLA.org

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    CONFIDENTIALITY STATEMENT: This communication, including attachments, is for the exclusive use of addressee and may contain proprietary, confidential or privileged information. If you are not the intended recipient, you are hereby notified that any disclosure, use, copying, dissemination, distribution or taking of any action in reliance on the content of this information is strictly prohibited. If you are not the intended recipient, please notify the sender immediately by return email and delete this communication and destroy all copies. Thank you.

    From: Hannah Brencher <comment-reply@wordpress.com> Reply-To: Hannah Brencher <comment+eqv4bbltby4bga92h2j6-11@comment.wordpress.com> Date: Tuesday, 8 April 2014 7:25 am To: Elyse Murphy <elyse@oasisla.org> Subject: [New post] You were known. You were seen. You were here.

    hannahkaty posted: ” “I think I’ve lost my life again,” I told her, twirling the stem of my wine glass as I talked. “That, or I don’t know how to be alone anymore. I used to actually be good at that.” There it was, my chunk of honesty sitting square on the table betwee”

  3. Oh Hannah, you made me cry. I can relate on so many levels. Why has it come to be that we only value ourselves when others see the beauty in us? I have a pressing need to delete my social media accounts. I wish I hadn’t made such a strong space for myself on the internet. Most days I hate it, I wish nobody knew me, nobody knew my deepest thoughts. Even with an anonymous blog now, I feel the weight of all the eyes that see my web presence.

    Please do keep writing. But if you one day choose not to, just know that you are still beautiful, still seen, still so very valued.

  4. I remember I line from a song Alone by Armin Van Buuren
    Everyone’s connected, but no one feels connected.
    This is exactly what I realized after I joined Twitter or Facebook.
    And I wish I could be a friend like that or have a friend like that.

  5. I loved, love this post from you dear Hannah. It is comforting to know that a young women like yourself, who has grown up with social media knows it can’t replace the “moment”. I did not grow up (or grow into) all of it and I must say dear girl that 42 years ago when I found my “first love” who is now my only (I did find him again) I can still remember his shy gaze and his sweet smile. I was only 13 but darling let me tell you, I did not need a FB post or a instagram to remember that. I could trace the line of his face on my pillow each night till I fell asleep.
    Keep using your memory for your snap shot moments. That will always be precious and you can recall that with eyes closed with no reaching for any electronics.

  6. i think i have been in this exact same place for the past month, and it’s refreshing and freeing to see that someone else is here, too.

  7. Oh my. Definitely cried as I got to the end of this one. This fits my life PERFECTLY right now. So good. thank you.

  8. Reblogged this on iThink and commented:
    “I think that’s what social media really does these days. More than it connects us. It claims to bring us together but I think we’re too distracted to see that it’s ripping us away from the one thing that really matters: each other. And how much we desperately need to show up for one another.”

  9. I’ve had to re-direct, rebuild, re-route a lot recently. I’ve never felt so alone in my entire life. It’s an unbelievably hard thing to face down a real-life nightmare and know that you’re doing it in the place you’re now supposed to call home, the place where you’re supposed to be finding roots. It’s scary, tiring, stressful. Yet, somehow, I make it work. I find my way, even when it’s dark.

  10. This reminds me of a quote in the movie called ‘Shall we Dance?”, which your entry expands on very eloquently…

    “We need a witness to our lives. There’s a billion people on the planet… I mean, what does any one life really mean? But in a marriage, you’re promising to care about everything. The good things, the bad things, the terrible things, the mundane things… all of it, all of the time, every day. You’re saying ‘Your life will not go unnoticed because I will notice it. Your life will not go un-witnessed because I will be your witness’.”

  11. My eyes are burning and watery some nights as I refuse to disconnect. The lives are others intrigue me as my own feels so empty at times. This part… “I let social media try to sooth the parts of me that whisper, “I want to be seen. I want to be known. I want to be more than just a face in the crowd. I want to be stunning. And lovely. I want to be validated for who I choose to be.” I try to let social media do that filling job for me. And then I wonder why I am surprised to find that warehouse inside of me feels more empty instead of full.” Oh, this part…hits home. Hits hard.

  12. oh how totally I could relate to this. Hannah, You are Seen, You are Heard and you are LOVED> thank you for sharing Truth. We need it. HUGS from my heart to yours, Kristin

  13. dear hannah ,
    i can totally relate to this article.Social media has become an emerging platfom for show off and useless information sharing.And now we no more try to spent time to know people in real but presume their life as they project it on social media and we helplessly find ourselves comparing our life to theirs.

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