When Being Seen Feels Unsafe

Earlier this week I attended a sound bath and visualization experience called Dreamscape at a women’s fitness studio. This event was everything I’d been calling in lately—nourishing, intentional, rooted in self-love and healing. I’ve been actively putting myself in spaces surrounded by women, spaces where I can breathe softer, move slower, and feel safe.

Except… this night, I didn’t feel safe.

There were three men at the event—two were there as part of a couple, and one came solo. I knew there would be men at the event, that it was open to everyone. When I first arrived, I noticed one man sitting on his mat alone, waiting for the experience and a couple other men trickled in with their partners. I noticed him briefly, but what happened next caught me off guard.

The Moment I Didn't See Coming

It was quick—subtle, even—and happened almost without me noticing. I felt an uneasiness in my body, but couldn’t quite place it. My mind did something quietly—automatically—I mentally paired the solo man with someone else in the room, someone I knew. And just like that, I moved on and tried to immerse myself in the experience. But still, something felt off. I couldn’t settle in. I couldn’t ground.

It wasn’t until the next day, while reflecting on the evening, that I realized what had really been going on: I was off because there was a man in the room.

The Armor I Didn’t Know I Wore

It’s not about him. He did nothing wrong. In fact, I admire the courage it must have taken to show up in a space so clearly dominated by feminine energy. But what his presence revealed was something much deeper inside of me.

The truth is—I eliminated myself as a potential partner the moment I saw him.

I judged my body. Assumed I wasn’t his type. Told myself a story before we ever exchanged words. And then, I projected: “He and my friend would be cute together.” I didn’t just step out of the narrative—I deleted myself from it.

The Wound Beneath the Surface

That’s when it hit me: I don’t know what it feels like to be fully seen… and loved anyway. Not in friendship, not in family, not even in my own reflection some days.

I’ve always had to earn love. Work for approval. Perform for acceptance. I’ve been softening that story, healing those pieces, and coming home to myself. But last night reminded me—there are still hidden pockets of that wound.

What It’s Teaching Me

I’m not afraid of being seen. I’m afraid of being seen and rejected. I’m afraid that if I let someone all the way in, they won’t choose me.

And if they don’t choose me, then what? Then maybe everything I believe about being worthy, just as I am, would feel false.

But that’s just another lie fear tells me.

Coming Back to Myself

The truth is, I am worthy. Even if someone doesn’t see it. Even if no one else notices.

I am the main character of this story, and I’m learning to be that romantically, not just in the healing, the writing, the dreaming—but in the loving too.

So here’s to the parts of me still unfolding. To the moments that catch me off guard. To the healing I didn’t know I still needed.

And to my future self—the one who doesn’t shrink, who doesn’t overthink, who knows she is magnetic simply because she is.