Have you ever been with someone who knows you? “Knows me?” you might be asking. And your next thought is probably, “Of course he/she knows me. We’re in love.” But I begin this blog thinking that knowing someone – truly knowing them – might be more rare than we think.
I was recently watching an episode of my favorite TV series. The female lead character was talking to a stranger about her recent decision not to marry the man to whom she was engaged. She tells the stranger, “I realized…in four hours I would marry a man who didn’t know me.” The man’s response: “Yeah, who knows anyone? Who cares?”
And so it begs the question: how well do you really know the people you call friends; the people you say you love? How well do the people who say they love you really know you? This awareness goes well beyond a favorite color or food; it is deeper than simply understanding preferences or dislikes.
I write this fully aware of the fact that we wouldn’t want everyone we interact with on a daily basis to know everything about who we are. There are certain suitable lines to draw with strangers, co-workers, and even friends. But I wonder how many of us have at least one person who knows everything – the good, the bad and the ugly, as it were.
Perhaps the even greater question to ask ourselves is not whether we have that one person who truly knows us, but whether we are capable of sharing our authentic selves with another. It is a scary thing to be raw with another human being; to expose our strengths and weaknesses, our good qualities and our faults. There is an underlying risk in allowing someone to see through the facade and truly into what makes us tick. To do so first assumes that we know ourselves – or at least that we are willing to uncover that self with another person. We must be willing to share even the parts that might embarrass us with another; and that person must accept us without judgment or blame. A relationship like that leaves us vulnerable like no other. It leaves us open to deep hurt, and it challenges us to be better in areas where we find a need for improvement. My guess is that not everyone is up for all of that. It is much easier to settle into a more comfortable arrangement, where we find stability and contentment.
Very often in romantic movies or novels, we hear the term “soulmate” tossed around. The term leaves the hopelessly romantic looking for that perfect partner; the partner they were somehow predestined to meet. Hollywood makes it seem like the relationship with a soulmate is the perfect engagement, free of struggle or challenge because it magically works like no other. I would, argue, however that a soulmate relationship is probably just the opposite. The person with whom we share our soul has a great responsibility to help us grow, to help us love ourselves and them more deeply, and to continue to challenge us in positive ways. None of that is easy. But a true soulmate is, I believe, the one who also loves us for the effort and who celebrates with us all of the beautiful and authentic things that make us who we are. They understand our rough edges and somehow accept us in spite of them.
I read a quote online recently that said,” Some people bring out the worst in you. Others bring out the best. And then there are those remarkably rare, addictive ones who just bring out the most of everything. They make you feel so alive that you’d follow them straight into hell.”
Yeah. I want that.