What Keeps Us From Cherishing Each Other

A reflection on walls of defensiveness and the courage to be seen

Published on Substack Jan 9 2026

What was the last social gathering you attended? Maybe it was a New Year’s party, a work event, a family dinner, or just coffee with friends. Picture yourself in that room.

Now ask yourself: What walls of defensiveness did you notice - in yourself or in others? Those protective barriers we put up to keep ourselves safe from being truly seen - but keep us from being cherished. 

Maybe you noticed that someone avoided the gathering altogether - made an excuse, said they were too busy, were likely relieved when they couldn’t make it. Or maybe you were that person. Not attending events is a valid option - but if it's because of a fear of being seen, let's look at what might be involved. 

At the event, maybe you saw someone (or yourself) staying busy the whole time. Helping in the kitchen, refilling drinks, cleaning up - in a way that avoided being available for real connection.

Or maybe there was the person who stayed completely other-focused. They asked wonderful questions, kept people talking, seemed to be genuinely interested in everyone else’s lives. But they never shared anything real about themselves. (This is a particularly ingenious wall because it looks like connection.)

Some people get absorbed in a game - video games, board games, physical activities. There’s connection happening, - but it’s connection through doing, not through being.

There are also the image-projectors. People who want to be seen as competent, or funny, or knowledgeable, or interesting, or the life of the party. 

Or maybe the quiet, mysterious observer in the corner. I remember as an early adult wishing that I could be invisible. Present - but not seen - in gatherings. 

All of these can be walls - ways of being present in a room without actually being authentically SEEN. 

What Image Were You Defending?

Here’s what I’ve noticed about people: we would all love to be seen as a great person. Some version of ourselves that we think is acceptable, lovable, worthy of respect.

And yes, some of that image is likely real. You ARE competent. You ARE funny. You ARE knowledgeable. People DO enjoy your company.

But where is the actual person behind that carefully maintained image? Your real values, not just the ones you think you should have. Your actual dreams, including the ones that feel silly or impossible. Your heartaches. Your strengths AND your weaknesses. Your quirks. The tender, struggling, hoping, delightful parts of you that make you uniquely human.

A catchphrase for intimacy is “Into me see.” Did you let anyone see INTO you at that gathering? Into the parts you usually keep hidden?

If not - what were you afraid they would see?

Maintaining that image is exhausting. It’s like playing a constant strategy game - we’re always calculating what we can say that will make us look good, what you should hide, how to respond in a way that maintains our acceptable self.

I remember telling a counseling lab group that I saw myself as a squirrel running in a cage - trying to generate a light that would cover up my inadequacy. Exhausting. And never able to stop or I’d be exposed. Thankfully the group saw the real me on that flywheel. Being cherished by them was a life-changing experience. 

Real presence - essence to essence, human to human - is so much richer. It’s also, paradoxically, so much less exhausting. It’s like two inner seven-year-olds meeting. Discovering delightful things about each other. Discovering hurting things that help us hold each other more tenderly. No pretense. No performance. Just presence.

The Fear Behind the Walls

What’s keeping us defensive? 

Isn't it fear?

Fear of being seen and found wanting. Fear of being discovered as less interesting than we appear, less competent than we project, more afraid than we’d ever admit. 

Fear that someone will see the parts of us that carry shame - the neediness, the loneliness, the ways we’re still struggling with things we think we should have figured out by now.

And beneath that, there’s often a deeper fear: fear of being harmed by what people think about us, say about us, might do to us. Fear based on what actually DID happen when we were younger.

Maybe someone we trusted used our vulnerability against us. Maybe we shared something real and tender, and they mocked it or dismissed it or walked away. Maybe we learned early that showing our real self was dangerous - that people weaponize vulnerability.

So we built walls. Walls that protected us when we were younger and more defenseless. When we didn’t have the skills to discern who was safe. We didn’t know how to set boundaries or protect ourselves in more nuanced ways. We were small and the world felt overwhelming.

Our walls were wisdom then.

But we’re not that young, defenseless person anymore.

Moments of Real Connection

Think back to that gathering again. Who, if anyone, do you feel close to in any way?

What created that small sense of connection?

Sometimes it’s something that revealed your shared humanity. You both have toddlers who don’t sleep. You both lost a parent too young. You both feel like imposters in your professional lives sometimes. There’s relief in connecting with someone who understands.

Sometimes it’s shared humor - and shared humor often reveals shared values. What we find funny says something about how we see the world.

Sometimes it’s doing something together with another person. You chatted as you chopped vegetables for the salad. You washed dishes together and gradually opened up. There's something about side-by-side presence that can feel safer than face-to-face. I love to walk and talk with friends as animated conversation flows easier.

Or sometimes it’s a compliment that felt genuine - not performative or obligatory, but real. 

And sometimes it’s when someone shares not just the WHAT of their life, but the WHY. Not just “I traveled to Japan” but why it mattered to them. Not just “I’m stressed about work” but what’s underneath the stress.

That warmth we feel in those moments of real connection? This could happen more often if we open a door in our carefully constructed walls.

A Story: “I Find You Delightful”

A long time ago I was at Kristen Neff workshop on self-compassion. I arrived at the auditorium late, flustered, embarrassed, trying to just slip into a seat near the back and get settled.

The woman beside me - leaned over and said softly: “I can see that you’re flustered by being late, but just know that I find you delightful.”

Those words were life-changing. She saw the real, struggling me behind my efforts to appear competent, and found me delightful anyway!!!

When late at other times, I fluster less.  and am able to be present more quickly - not just at that workshop, but in my life.

The kind person was a fellow mental health occupational therapist. I’ve tried to find her since to thank her, to tell her how those words shaped me. How I’ve told clients since: “What if you didn’t have to hide the things you consider embarrassing? What if some people actually find them delightful in you?”

The real, struggling and human is so much richer than the image of competence.

Learning to Discern, Not Just Defend

Walls keep everyone out indiscriminately. Creative boundaries are more nuanced. They let the right people in while protecting us from those who might harm.

We’re adults now who have capacities now that we didn’t have when we first built those walls. We can learn to discern who’s safe for what kind of sharing. We can learn to disarm potential conflicts before they escalate. We can learn to connect with people using a different grid - a new way of understanding relationship, safety, and the actual cost-benefit ratio of vulnerability.

It’s wise to be discerning about who we share what with, and when. Not everyone has earned the right to hear our tender stories. Not everyone can hold our struggles with care.

But complete self-protection isn’t wisdom either. It’s isolation wearing the mask of safety.

We can practice opening up with safe people. An important truth I learned about trust. It’s best to not ask ONE person to be completely trustworthy at all times for all things. That’s an impossible standard that leaves us either desperately dependent on one relationship or completely alone.

Instead, we can develop a support circle. We trust this person for that. We rely on this friend for this particular kind of conversation. If they’re not available or able right now, who else might be?

This is different from distrusting everyone. It’s learning who’s safe for what - and engaging with them accordingly.

Inviting the Real in Others

As we learn to value authenticity over curated images, we notice the walls that others are using. Not in a judgmental way. But with compassionate understanding. We glimpse the real person behind their walls. We start to see their values, their fears, what triggers them, what they find genuinely funny or deeply concerning.

We discover insightful questions and a kind of presence that invites people to risk being real with us. We discover that even mistakes or obvious weaknesses can be endearing when approached with compassion and kind humor rather than contempt.

We learn that sometimes the most cherishing thing you can offer someone is to see them in a moment they consider shameful - and respond with warmth anyway.

A practice for the next gathering: Share the “Why”

When you’re chatting with people share the “why.” Not just the WHAT of your life - the facts, the accomplishments, the surface details that maintain your image. But WHY something matters to you.

Maybe instead of just saying “I traveled to Japan,” you share why you wanted to go. “I traveled to Japan because I wanted to experience a culture that values quiet presence - something I’m trying to learn for myself.”

Instead of “I love this song,” maybe “This song reminds me of my grandmother. She’d hum it while she cooked, and I can still hear her voice when I listen to it.”

Instead of just “I’m stressed about work,” perhaps “I’m stressed because I care so much about supporting my team, and I’m not sure I am right now.”

The “why” takes the conversation from image-level to intimacy-level. It allows someone to see INTO you. Our vulnerability invites people to respond with their own “why.” Do they lean in or change the subject? Or do they let you see into them, too?

We discover that hiding ourselves takes a lot of energy. Energy that could be used to discover, to delight in, to relax into real presence with real people.

An Invitation

What if the fear that built your walls - the very real fear of being harmed, of being seen and found wanting - what if that fear was based on the vulnerability of who you were then, not who you are now?

We are adults now with more wisdom and skills. We are learning to read people better. We are developing skills for creating safety and for extracting ourselves from situations that aren’t safe. We are building a support circle instead of expecting one person to be everything or trusting no one at all. And we learn how to respond if people do hurt us. 

The real and struggling version of us - the one behind the walls - is so much richer than any image we try to maintain.

And there are those who find that real us not just acceptable, but delightful.

Would you like to discuss this?

If you recognized yourself in this reflection, you’re not alone. Many of us are navigating the tension between protection and connection, between old fears and new possibilities.

I’ve created a quiz to help you identify what specific patterns might be blocking your ability to reveal yourself - to cherish yourself and others. It takes about ten minutes and offers personalized insights based on where you are right now.

Try the Quiz: What’s Keeping You From Cherishing Well?

And if you’d like to explore these ideas with others who understand, I’d love to have you join our next Fireside Chat. We gather on Zoom in small groups (8-12 people) to discuss articles like this one. Check for the next one. Link

Our website www.thecherishmosaic.com

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