Look Again: When the Story in Your Head Isn’t the Whole Truth

Last Sunday in Relief Society, someone asked a question that seemed simple enough:

“When have you felt like you belonged?”

I listened as different women shared their thoughts, and then one woman said something I haven't been able to stop thinking about.

She said she never really feels like she belongs.

Then she described what that feels like.

She said, “I feel like a glass door. Everyone just looks through me.”

My heart hurt hearing her say it.

But almost immediately, another thought came to me.

Wait.

Because I had watched her come into the room that morning.

I had watched someone help her walk to her seat.

I had watched another woman see her, walk toward her, put her arms around her and welcome her.

She felt invisible.

But I had literally watched people see her.

And I haven't been able to stop thinking about that.

Because I wonder how often I do the same thing.

How often does something happen in my life and my mind immediately begins creating a story about what it means?

They don't want me.

I don't belong here.

I'm being left out.

No one notices me.

I'm alone in this.

And perhaps one of the adversary's greatest weapons isn't convincing us to do something terrible.

Maybe sometimes it's much quieter than that.

Maybe he simply gets us to believe a thought that isn't completely true.

Then he lets us repeat it.

Again.

And again.

Until eventually we don't even recognize it as a thought anymore.

We call it truth.

That's the part I've been thinking about.

Because feelings are real.

If someone feels lonely, unseen, unwanted or forgotten, telling them, “That's not true,” usually isn't helpful.

But there is a difference between honoring a feeling and automatically believing every thought that created it.

Sometimes we need to become willing to investigate our own thinking.

To notice the sentence running through our mind and actually say it out loud.

“Nobody sees me.”

Okay.

Is that completely true?

Who helped me to my seat?

Who put their arms around me?

Who texted me?

Who remembered my name?

Who made room?

And maybe the evidence doesn't erase the loneliness immediately. I don't think it always works that neatly.

But it might crack the door open just enough for another possibility.

Maybe I am more loved than I realized.

Maybe I am not as alone as I thought.

Maybe someone does see me.

And perhaps even more importantly:

God sees me.

I think the adversary would love for us to interpret every quiet room as rejection, every unanswered text as abandonment, every awkward interaction as proof that we don't belong.

Because once we believe we don't belong, we start pulling away.

We stop showing up.

We protect ourselves.

And eventually we can create the very loneliness we were afraid of in the first place.

So I've been thinking about one little practice I want to carry with me this week.

When I notice a thought that hurts, I want to pause long enough to name it.

Say it out loud.

Then ask:

Is this actually true?

What evidence supports it?

And what evidence have I been overlooking?

Where was someone kind?

Where was I included?

Where did someone reach toward me?

Where was God quietly reminding me, I see you. I haven't forgotten you. You belong with Me.

Maybe that's the invitation this week.

Look again.

Because feelings are real.

But thoughts aren't always true.

And sometimes the evidence that we are loved, wanted and seen has been there all along.

We just needed to look again.