Embracing Fresh Eyes – The Courage to See Ourselves and Others with Openness

Welcome back!

The holiday season felt even more full than usual this year. And with that fullness came more opportunities to connect—with people I’ve just met, and with others who’ve known me for years.

Throughout those interactions, I was reminded that every single person holds a different version of me in their mind. A version I have no control over.
For some, I might be remembered as warm and outgoing. For others, reserved and quiet. In one person’s mind, I may be a cherished friend—and in another’s, someone who hurt them.

Each version depends not only on who I was when we met, but also who they were. It’s shaped by our timing, our stories, our roles, our proximity.

And what makes this even more challenging is that the people who’ve known us the longest often hold on to old versions of us the tightest. Not because they mean harm—but because it fits the narrative they’ve always known. Sometimes it’s easier to keep seeing someone the way they were than to open ourselves to who they might be now.

Maybe you’ve felt it, too.
You look back and can see just how much you’ve grown—how your responses, your patterns, your way of being have evolved. But someone in your life still sees an old version of you. Maybe even a version that never felt quite true to begin with.

It can feel disorienting, even painful.

Sometimes, it surprises me how firmly others hold onto an outdated version of who I was.
Maybe they only saw me during a quieter season of life—or made sense of me through the lens of their own definitions – ones that lack nuance.
They might describe me as shy or reserved, not realizing I was also the one planning school events, showing up to gatherings, holding space for so many. But if that doesn’t fit the story they’ve already written, it often gets missed.

Or maybe someone responds to my groundedness as if I’m being defensive, because they’re anticipating a shutdown that never comes.

I wouldn’t say it’s intentional.
But it still stings.

In those moments, I notice the urge to correct them.
To prove that their version of me isn’t accurate.
To be seen clearly.

And if I’m honest, that urge is often strongest in the relationships I care deeply about. The ones where—on some level—I’m still carrying a belief that their view of me defines my worth.

But here’s what I’m learning:
I can notice that urge without acting on it.
I can feel the sting of being mis-seen and still stay rooted in who I know myself to be.

It doesn’t mean I stop being open to feedback.
It means I trust that someone’s version of me may be true for them—but it doesn’t define me.
I can let that version live in their mind, if they need it to.
And I can still keep growing.

Those who are willing to see with fresh eyes will get to meet the me I am now, and each version of me as I grow and evolve.

And I want to be able to offer that same grace to others.
To not box them into who they used to be.
To not hold them hostage to a past version of themselves, just because it’s more familiar.

Seeing someone with fresh eyes is vulnerable.
It requires curiosity, and trust, and a willingness to be surprised.
But it’s also the only way to stay connected to who someone is, not just who they were.

Who we were is only one piece of who we are.
And who we are now is only one piece of who we’re still becoming.

The stories others carry about us may never fully match our own.
But that doesn’t mean we have to stay trapped in those old stories—or see others through them, either.

We can choose to meet each other, again and again…with gentleness, openness, and a little more curiosity.

And maybe that’s the invitation—
To notice when we’re clinging to an old version of someone (including ourselves).
To pause long enough to ask: What if there’s more here?
And to choose curiosity, again and again.

In any healthy relationship, we won’t just meet one version of the other person—we’ll meet many.
We’ll watch each other grow, falter, heal, shift.
And staying connected means choosing, again and again, to see each other with fresh eyes.
To witness the unfolding. To honour the deaths and rebirths. To let love evolve with us.

We remember that we’ll never know every aspect of a person – who they were or who they are. And there’s beauty and love in opening ourselves up to the continued discovery, the continued unfolding.

Here’s to seeing clearly—
Not because we’ve figured someone out,
But because we’re open enough to keep looking.

With heartfelt gratitude,
Christina