015 Post It!

Seen, heard and loved.

I got a call from my friend Ayomi this morning, and what started as an average day turned out to be better. I had completed my steps, done my prayers, had my bath and dressed up to go to work and then her call came in. The reason I recounted all the things I had done was to emphasise that the day was unfolding as it normally would, nothing out of the ordinary. We hadn’t spoken properly for a minute now, so getting a call from her was a pleasant surprise.

I was already anticipating what she was going to say. Would the call be light or professional? Our dynamic is complex, so it’s okay that I am wondering the basis of the call, but this time around, the call was me-centered. She called to “check up on me”. Quick story, we saw yesterday, and we spoke very lightly, in that I just said hi to her and carried on. Unknowingly to me, she could see the slump in my shoulders, the shadows behind my eyes, and the weight I had been carrying, all of which I can affirm are still there, not loudly but present, with me.

She called this morning to see what’s up with me, a question I have yet to answer for some reason. It was the first step I needed to actually sit with myself and find what the issue really is. Wait, this is in no way an attention-seeking issue; I wasn’t being dramatic or forming, which is exactly why I was surprised that she saw I wasn’t my usual self. I mean, everybody can relate to being below a 50% and not knowing why.

I remember when Kamsi said something profound on the To Be Seen podcast. She said, “Stories become mirrors and conversations become a way home to yourself”. She was referring to how conversations expose our mindsets, perceptions, thought processes, and, most of the time, our resolve. Simply put, that conversation I had with her this morning helped me understand that it is absolutely ok not to know what the problem is, and that, in fact, it is a win to identify that I was not at 100%.

I felt seen in that she could tell what I couldn’t yet, and even when I didn’t have the words, she understood what I was feeling. It is a privilege to have people who see you and hear you. Whilst you may not think it is a big deal, I could imagine how it could have been done in another world. Another person, just like she interacted with me yesterday, could have said, “What’s up with you?” and, when I don’t have anything tangible to say, would be like, “Why are you giving me an attitude?” and then make it about themselves, you dig?

I am referencing this in my example because if I am being honest, it is simply a projection, seeing as I am very capable of being that person. I found that it is very important that you have people who do not just speak to you but feel you deeply and are interested enough to ask questions beyond the surface level. (I am working on myself, I promise)

What this moment has quietly taught me is that care does not always come in grand gestures; sometimes, it shows up in the gentlest interruptions, the unexpected call, the pause to notice, the decision to ask without assumption. It reminded me that being seen is not about having the perfect explanation for how you feel, but about being given the space to exist honestly, even in confusion. There is something deeply human about being met where you are, not where you think you should be. And in that space, without pressure or performance, you begin to soften toward yourself, to accept that not every feeling needs immediate resolution to be valid.

So I am learning, slowly and intentionally, to offer that same grace to others and to myself. To ask more, assume less, and to hold space without rushing to define or fix. Because the truth is, we are all carrying things we cannot always name, wearing strength that sometimes conceals quiet heaviness. And if we can be the kind of people who notice, who reach out, who choose empathy over reaction, then we become part of someone else’s way home to themselves, just like Ayomi was for me.

Love you, baby❤️