I’ve never really been a background person.
Ya boy was a full-on thespian through high school & early college, sang & danced in show choir, placed second in a Steve Adubato public speaking competition, & later served as the national spokesperson for ALDI on live TV.
The signs were always there.
I’ve always been comfortable taking up space, being visible, stepping into the spotlight when it’s offered.
That part of me has been there for as long as I can remember. But there was a stretch of my life where visibility didn’t always translate into being seen. Mhmm, read that sentence again.
Where I could show up consistently, contribute meaningfully, give pieces of myself away, & still walk away with this quiet, unsettling question:
Did any of that land?
That isn’t where I am now, but it’s a feeling I remember vividly.
Looking back, I can see how much of that ache came from waiting. Waiting to be acknowledged. Waiting for someone else to say, I see you. You matter. You’re making a difference. Waiting for confirmation that my presence was landing the way I hoped it was. And in that waiting, it became surprisingly easy to let other people’s silence shape how I saw myself. I started to shrink my own sense of impact. And began to question whether I was actually contributing anything meaningful at all.
What I didn’t realize at the time was how subtly that waiting was training me to outsource my self-worth.
How often I was measuring myself by reaction instead of reality. By feedback instead of fact. And how much energy it took to live that way, constantly scanning the room for proof that I belonged.
This letter came from reflecting on that season with more distance & more compassion. From thinking about the difference between being visible & being truly seen. And from recognizing how powerful it is to stop waiting for others to validate your presence & begin acknowledging yourself instead.
If you’ve ever found yourself wondering whether your presence really matters, even when you’re showing up fully, this letter is for you.
Dear You,
It can feel like you’re always waiting.
Perhaps it’s for the text, the invitation, the gesture that says:
You matter, I see you, I choose you.
That longing runs deep, because to be chosen is to be recognized. And when it doesn’t come, it can leave you questioning your own worth. But your value is not measured by who picks you.
You are already chosen: by your own breath, by the life that continues to rise in you each day, by the resilience that has carried you this far. You are chosen by the people whose lives have shifted simply by knowing you, even if they’ve never found the words to say it.
Your longing is not wrong. It is a reflection of your heart’s hunger for connection.
And that hunger is proof of your aliveness.
Ask yourself:
Where have I already been chosen, even if I’ve overlooked it?
What would it mean to choose myself before waiting on anyone else?
If you’re looking for ease, really sit with these questions.
You don’t have to wait for permission to matter.
You already do.
With you in the longing,
Kasim