The Fear of Being Perceived

If someone were to make me choose between sacrificing my left big toe or being perceived- I would have my sock and shoe off before they could finish their sentence.

I don’t know if anyone else can relate, but the thought of people I know perceiving me makes my skin crawl.

I know what you’re thinking- Alli you quite actually have an entire website and you’re spilling your heart out to anyone with as much as a link.

Which… correct. Checkmate.

But photos and videos to a public platform so easily accessible to others? Hard pass.

Now I notoriously do not post on Instagram. Even if it’s the most important, memorable occasion of my life. I will simply not post. If I were to get married tomorrow, the thought of publishing that day wouldn’t flash across my mind for a second. Which, I would like to say there is no reflection of diminished value to anyone or anything involved. I don’t equate something being “post-worthy” to having deep meaning to myself and my heart. And while I think that has to do with the fact that I don’t enjoy or frequent social media— I just absolutely hate posting. I love living my life not having others knowing what I’m doing, who I’m with, where I’m at, etc. It brings me a sense of complete autonomy that really heals my inner self considering I grew up in an environment that didn’t necessarily allow free will and privacy.

Story time:

Back in December I had a little Christmas photoshoot with my best friend. The pictures were adorable and the memory is priceless.

But when it came to posting, she watched me essentially have a panic attack overthinking what song to use and what caption to write. I even got my dad involved to help rid me of the burden of choice. I was nauseous at the thought of it.

(Before anyone asks— Yes, I did want to share the photo… I just needed a little kick in the butt first).

So why is this?

Turns out- I think it’s a control thing mixed with— you guessed it— patterns learned in childhood!

Yes.

You see, when I write I get to choose my words and run through them with a fine-tooth comb. Every word is intentional. Every punctuation is purposeful. Every syllable is read a dozen times to make sure it can only be perceived in the way I intend it to (…hopefully). Not to mention this is my space. A little safe haven with my name on it.

With social media, I’m plastering my image onto a platform where it can be seen by anyone. Shown to anyone. Shared with anyone.

Once it’s on the internet it’s just there.

No words, just this single snapshot with hundreds, if not thousands of potential people making assumptions and forming thoughts about you without even a single second of your interjection.

How is that not scary?

So because I don’t have a say, I lack the ability to control how people are perceiving me.

An aside: I also learned it’s a common symptom of social anxiety…but lord knows I don’t have that (queue me talking to random people for no reason every single day).

Now, earlier I said “the people I know” perceiving me. I would like to say I don’t care about strangers doing it. Which is, in my opinion, almost backwards, right? Most people are comfortable in their circle and will act and say almost anything, but do a 180 around total strangers.

Not me.

For some reason I care so deeply about what people who know me think of me. But put me in a room with strangers and all worry disappears.

Which is interesting because I’ve always said “I don’t care what anyone thinks about me.” And I think when people say that, the general sentiment refers to individuals they don’t know. “Anyone” being a collective of strangers.

So in this instance, I don’t care what people think about me. But add people I know? My lips are sealed and I’m running for the hills.

My dream scenario would be to block everyone I know and then post. I mean, what would the opposite of a private-to-your-followers-only account setting be? Because I’ll take 20.

Which... as you can guess, doesn’t exactly sound healthy.

Now the odd part is I like attention.

I know— Oh no! Layers!

I love talking to people and blabbering away (could you tell?) and feeling connected. Which… if you think about it— to have attention is to be perceived. But it feels different. And I’m not sure why. I’m confident in how I look, so it isn’t that.

So I did some digging within myself.

I am, at my core, a people pleaser. To the max. I’m talking I journeyed to a random village in Hungary (where I notably knew not a single person) to drop off a pair of shoes to a woman I have never met… simply because I was told from someone she knew it would make her happy. I’ve been bitten by a dog and instead of admitting my own hurt, went into a rabbit hole of apologies and ensuring them it was A-OK, dismissing myself as much as I humanly could (side note: I love that dog so I wasn’t mad). That’s the level of people pleasing I go to. I take on the responsibility of other people’s feelings because in childhood I had to regulate the emotions of those in my household in order to survive and come out unscathed. A world in which I acted as I pleased was never my reality.

So when I do or say something that could potentially be perceived as anything less than what the people I love expect me to do or say, I internally panic. I assume I let them down. I assume I disappointed them. I assume they hate me. I feel unsafe. The world ends.

But of course, it doesn’t.

Moving offline, let’s discuss this in a real-life setting because I find it bleeds more so into this realm. I hope it isn’t too everywhere and thank you ahead of time for following my silly brain tracks (get it… brain tracks instead of train tracks? I’m giving myself a high five for that one).

Picture this: The level of expectation I both subconsciously and consciously feel the need to uphold to those that know me is like one of those giant fundraising thermometers (stay with me here, I promise it’ll make sense). Typically, you give someone all you can and that’s that. The meter would go up and you made a difference. A rational person would appreciate your best and all parties would be happy.

But with me- I tell myself that this friend, family member, etc. is expecting nothing less than me maxing that meter out. And to not be able to reach the top of that meter is to let them down forever, subsequently causing me to feel let down with myself.

That’s a wild expectation to set. I know.

And when I make a mistake— a small, human mistake— around or with the people I know, my initial reaction is to want to cut them off and never let them see me again. This is very avoidant-attachment of me (did I use the right context here? This is a whole world I want to learn more about so bear with me). It’s a mixture of being so embarrassed that I wasn’t absolutely perfect and being convinced this small mistake will change the way they view me forever. Which is funny because I don’t think those things of other people when they make a mistake. I just say “no problem,” and move forward.

But but but.

A stranger knows nothing about me. They don’t have an image of me in their mind. They have 0 expectations. I am just another human being. However, someone who knows me has an image of me in their mind. Expectations. And by me putting myself in a situation where I’m to be perceived, that opens the door to falling short of those expectations. To letting down that mental image they have of me. To being seen as flawed. And to being less loved.

Additionally, growing up I had to be needless. To not want. To not say. To not do. I constantly heard the expression “children should be seen, not heard” (puking in my mouth, I know) and so to have the autonomy to do the “being heard” part feels as though I’m breaking rules.

To put it frankly— being perceived meant being punished or criticized. And I feel comfortable around strangers because I wasn’t punished or criticized by strangers, I was punished or criticized by loved ones.

I found safety in being invisible and laying low around the people I knew and loved, whereas strangers never treated me as poorly as the people I called family.

Not to mention, being perceived and seen came with an automatic sense of being a burden. If I existed it meant I was causing some sort of stress for someone. It meant I was real with basic needs and therefore was annoying. An inconvenience with a name.

To be perceived requires vulnerability— something I have internally equated to the ability for others to hurt me. This, of course, isn’t good. Being vulnerable is one of the beauties of the human experience. You open yourself up and become vulnerable to give and feel love. To experience the broad spectrum of human emotion and learn from it. Now, I say that and agree, but let me remind you I’m still working on implementing it actively in my own day-to-day.

Progress is a forgiving little lady in a warm, hand-knit sweater.

So here we are.

The trickiest part of doing so much self reflection isn’t realizing you do these things and understanding the root of it, but rather not knowing how to fix it. Or maybe that’s my solution-brain coming forward and expecting immediate results and change. Ah- another story for another time.

So…what now? Good question.

Lately I have been making a conscious and active effort to untie the expectation I feel people have on me. Instead, I have been trying to deliver my own capabilities regardless of this imaginary bar. I’m trying to present myself as I am and understanding that any discontent or judgement of such is not my problem.

It’s separating what is being delivered and relinquishing what can’t be controlled.

It’s reminding myself that “Hey, you exist! And that’s okay!”

I hope I was able to potentially connect some dots for someone somewhere along this piece.

Unlearning behaviors is hard. But being stuck forever in emotional stagnancy is even harder. We got this.

You’re so loved.

Xoxo,

Alli