“Being seen is a gift. Being known is a relationship.” — MG
We spend our professional lives learning how to know and care for others. We listen to their stories, seek to understand their struggles, and accompany them through some of life's most difficult moments. Yet how often do we turn that same curiosity toward our colleagues? Or allow them to turn it toward us? We become so accustomed to being the ones who know that we may forget what it means to be known.
I've spent much of my professional life surrounded by people who know me. Or perhaps more accurately, know about me. They know my roles, accomplishments, and even some of my quirks. But how many really know what matters most to me, what I worry about, or who I'm becoming? Perhaps we long to be known yet hesitate to reveal ourselves for fear of being misunderstood, judged, or rejected. One way I share my inner life is through poetry. When someone reads one of my poems and shares not only what it means to them, but what it suggests about me, our conversation sometimes takes us somewhere unexpected, helping us discover more about each other. The poem offers a glimpse of who I am, but it's the conversation and growing relationship that allow me to become more fully known.
The science of human connection supports this distinction. Research suggests that closeness grows not simply through sharing information, but through feeling understood, accepted, and cared for. Yet there seems to be a considerable gap between our longing to be known and our experience of it. In a 2020 national survey, 58% of Americans reported sometimes or always feeling that no one knows them well, increasing to 64% among those caring for family members or friends. Being known, it seems, is something many of us are missing. And it requires both our willingness to reveal something of ourselves and another's willingness to receive it.
Perhaps this helps explain why professional loneliness can persist even among people surrounded by colleagues. We're trained to know our patients while revealing relatively little of ourselves. Appropriate in clinical relationships, perhaps, but what happens when we carry that same pattern into relationships with colleagues, friends, and family? We can become so practiced at being the listener, helper, and steady presence that even the familiar "I'm fine" becomes more habit than choice. And while not every relationship needs to deepen, perhaps more of them deserve the opportunity.
This week, when you connect with your PeerRx partner or another close colleague, consider what is known of you beyond your professional identity and the familiar details of your life. What might you be willing to let someone know a little better? And who might be waiting for a similar invitation from you? Perhaps begin with a question that matters, like "What's been weighing on you lately?" or "What's bringing you joy these days?" Then, when the question comes back your way, consider offering something of yourself in return. After all, no one who cares so much for others should have to remain unknown.