Conversation with Imi

Two people, shaped by very different lives and personalities, found themselves in conversation. They asked each other: what does it mean to stand on the outside looking in, to carry wounds of invisibility, and to search for connection without losing authenticity?
What unfolded was not a debate of answers but a meeting of perspectives: one quieter, one more outward. Both reaching for the same truth: that being seen is not about fitting in but about daring to live without apology.
This collaboration is an invitation to take the labels once pressed upon us, shift their weight, and let them echo back as the truth of our own being.



How is it that certain people come into our lives at a particular moment almost out of nowhere? People who, on the surface at least, we might think we have nothing in common with. Well, I can’t answer that exactly, but I am a believer in fate and/or karma. The idea (to use an old cliché) that everything happens for a reason and that everyone who comes into our lives comes into it for a reason.

So, it makes perfect sense then, that I meet a 26 year old Turkish girl on Substack and it leads to a long and deep conversation.

She touched me very deeply the first time I read her work, and I commented on it and then reached out to her to begin this dialogue.

What I will write here next was my impression of our initial conversations. In the first of those I think I did most of the questioning. I think I said I would not put on my therapist hat but for me it is almost a way of being. I see people in a certain way, and since a lot of Imi’s writing, as well as our discussion has been about not being seen I hope I was able to provide a space for her to really feel seen.

The second conversation, which took place a week later gave her the opportunity to be more of the questioner. I will admit I found this more challenging, perhaps because I don’t find it so easy to talk about myself. I hide behind the therapist’s mask.

So, what follows is by no means an exhaustive exploration of our conversations, but I hope it will give a flavour of how we connected. The fact that on both occasions we spoke easily for over an hour is perhaps a testament to how well we connected, and how we hope to turn this into a series of discussions.

The fact that I reached out to her in the first place was very much because my intuition told me I could and would be able to connect with her in a deep way. If our initial conversations are anything to go by, my intuition was right.

(Without wishing to be big headed, I am seldom wrong when I feel something like this)

The theme was very much about the importance of being seen. For Imi this goes back a long way to growing up with two much older sisters who she idolised but who, I get the impression, thought of her as rather annoying and somewhat spoiled.

She acknowledges that she had an easier life growing up than they did. Her parents were struggling to build successful careers and farmed the two older girls out to relatives. But when little Imi came along, they had made it.

I sense the resentment that they felt towards her.

But Imi spoke in terms of trauma. A strong word perhaps for the unkind words of her sisters, but I could tell their treatment of her cut deep, nonetheless. The very day we spoke she said she’d had a conversation with one of them, keen to know if she had read her latest Substack post. She hadn’t.

The cross words between them led her to feeling a tightening in her throat, a breathlessness. Very much a bodily reaction (memory) to earlier moments in her life when her sisters had rejected her. She remembered in fact a conversation she overheard as a child when one of her sisters said to her mum that she wished Imi was not there.

I could imagine that little girl hearing those words. A big sister who she idolised confirming that she was not wanted.

Can words alone really be described as trauma? Maybe the specific definition here is irrelevant. This is a wound. What we sometimes refer to in psychology as a core wound. It is not something we can ever forget.

I looked at Imi as she told me about this, and I could see that little girl. And yes, I could feel her pain. I told her this and tears came to her eyes.

“That little girl is still there inside you.” I told her. “And she still longs for that validation from her big sister.”

I should point out here that in our second conversation Imi was keen to add that her sisters had at times been very loving and nurturing towards. I am glad she said this because it is important to remember that when we really look honestly at the bigger picture, we can see that things are never that black and white. But in the here and now when she has just had a conversation with her sister and she seems dismissive of something that is very important to Imi, the memories of those times in the past when she felt unseen or rejected are bound to come to the surface

This is what feels like the painful truth; that the people we want validation from the most can’t give it to us. Her sister, perhaps never was nor ever can be the sister she wanted, needed or hoped for maybe because she too carries her own wounds.

So, what do we do when we don’t get what we need from those closest to us?

It is a hard question to answer but everything I already know about Imi from our conversations tells me that she is coming to her own conclusions about what she needs to do. In fact, she is already doing it. Facing our shadows and looking fully in the mirror are two things we talked about. Both are processes which ultimately lead us to the only resource that really matters; our true self, beyond the layers of illusion that we somehow build around us.

In many ways I envy Imi, that she has already done enough soul searching to have come to these conclusions so early in her life. When I read her work, I am faced with an ‘old soul’ so full of knowing and wisdom but when I am actually talking to her, although this is still there in some ways, equally I am talking to a 26-year-old who speaks very quickly and has all the insecurities I would expect from someone her age.

When I first met her, she was keen to ask me what I really thought of her.

For some reason that I can’t explain I had this idea in my head that she was an American living in London, so I can’t lie, her Turkish accent was a surprise, but there was probably no need for her to apologise for talking too quickly and worrying that I wouldn’t understand her.

Nor was there any need to say sorry for nearly crying. (It is something I am used to with clients. They almost always apologise for crying, when in fact I might be the one who should apologise for saying something that made them cry).

These are examples of the typical insecurities of a 26-year-old, so perhaps when she asked me if she was what I was expecting I could only say that appearances hardly ever tell us anything very important about a person.

On reflection however, perhaps the desire to be seen does go deeper for someone like Imi precisely because of the perceived rejection of her sisters. I told her that I had noticed how often she will write notes on Substack saying how grateful and touched she is by people’s comments on her work. How often she uses phrases like “you’ve no idea how much it means to read your comments.” This comes from a very genuine place because it touches into her desire to be seen.

This conversation about being seen led to a wider discussion about being an outsider. It is something I resonated with. I think we differ in the sense that Imi is very much the extrovert who wants to fit in and craves being noticed. Not in an egotistical way but more out of wanting to find her tribe and fit in. Whereas for me as an introvert it has always been about not knowing how to fit in with a large group, and very much feeling lost in these situations. This has led to moments in which people have accused me of being rude, stand-offish or perhaps even that they feel like I am dismissive of others. This could not be further from the truth, but I understand more now why some people might perceive me this way if they only ever see me in large group situations.

What I crave is more intimate connections. One to one deeper conversation has always been where I thrive, which is perhaps why I knew talking to Imi was going to work so beautifully well.

This is the first of our collaborations. I hope there will be more.

We have so much to say.

I can’t wait to see how she has reflected on our conversations.

Here is a link to Imi’s post

To Live as Yourself Is to Live Without Apology