On being seen

I was off social media for about year until a couple months ago. Part of it had to do with eliminating anxiety without comparing myself to the digital world everytime I opened the app. Another part I realized, is about being seen.

With friendships, at work, and when meeting new people, I’m confident and genuinely curious about the other person. I love asking questions, and I’m good at making people feel seen -  I end up hearing a lot of life stories. But the other day, on my Instagram feed, I noticed something: in almost every recent cover photo, I’m either covering my face or turned away from the camera.

I’ve been through a lot of change the past couple years so it makes sense that I shook myself up a bit. It was a sharp contrast from my high school and university years, which were marked by fearlessness, adventure, and success without the weight of adult disappointments, heartbreaks, responsibilities. I also tend to take risks, so naturally, I take a lot of L’s. After rupture, heartbreak, career pivots, and anxiety, my system did exactly what it was supposed to do: reduce exposure. 

Where am I going with this? Somewhere along the way, I started to feel ashamed and fearful of being seen. Fearful of being seen as the woman who left London’s Goldman Sachs and high finance to move back to her hometown; the one with “too many” boyfriends; the one without filler or a perfectly symmetrical face; even the one with sporty hobbies that are not feminine enough (dumb! I know). While these choices are aligned with who I am - or at least with my honest attempt to figure out what I want - I’ve felt increasingly hesitant to be visible in the digital world.

And when I really look at it, those fears aren’t actually about those facts. They’re about a false moral hierarchy our generation absorbed: success without detours = worthy; love without attempts = worthy; polish without mess = worthy.

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That hierarchy is everywhere on Instagram. (TikTok actually feels less comparative to me, funny enough.) It’s hard not to compare myself when every scroll brings another engagement, another St. Bart’s yacht trip, or an endless designer closet - even as I love love and feel happy for the people who’ve found it.

That same hierarchy shows up not just in careers and relationships, but in how friendships are supposed to look online, too - I noticed myself measuring against that more than I’d like to admit. Side note on friendships: I’m much more of a 1-on-1 tight inner-circle + a larger outer circle built around shared interests / hobbies person. While I’ve felt insecure at times that I don’t have a Friends-style-IG-perfect friend group that existed seamlessly since high school, the friendships I do have are incredible: pure, honest, uplifting, kind, with no hidden agendas, no strings attached, and no drama. Distance doesn’t break them; we pick up wherever we left off, across cities and countries. I admire, adore, and deeply respect my closest friends.

My friends feel comfortable coming to me with very personal, heavy questions and I can go to them just as openly. That doesn’t photograph well or become a Tiktok (lol), but having people who show up in your lowest moments instead of just liking your posts is an enormous blessing. These friends answer my calls and give advice that genuinely comes from wanting the best for me (and vice versa), which is pretty special. Writing this out is a reminder to myself that depth and quality in friendships don’t always look impressive on Instagram - and that’s not a flaw.

And maybe there’s a connecting thread in this ramble: the things that really matter don’t always look impressive online. This week, a coworker in his 60s and I went for a coffee after I was sitting at my desk in tears (literally) following a breakup. I told this basically-stranger that I was afraid there might not be someone out there for me. I told him I’ve dated genuinely great men, and each time it’s not it -  not for lack of trying, but because in my heart I can feel when someone isn’t my husband. My body lets me know when I try to override that, physically not letting me settle or tolerate BS.

In return, he opened up to me about his own fear: that he hadn’t lived up to his potential, that he’d disappointed the people who believed in him, that he hadn’t done enough for Canada. That felt almost silly to me - he has a beautiful family, gets to literally skate to work in the winter (very Ottawa), involved in his church, and here I was, a much younger coworker, feeling safe enough to share some of my most vulnerable fears with him.

I asked him if he views it as embarrassing or shameful that I don’t still work in private equity. He said absolutely not. I told him I felt the same about him. Two humans, different generations, both afraid they somehow “fell short” - and both wrong. That exchange alone dismantles the Instagram scoreboard: sometimes impact isn’t aesthetic, meaning isn’t loud, and regret often lies.

On view at National Gallery of Canada right now! Eugène Jansson, Dawn over Riddarfjärden, 1899. Oil on canvas, 150 × 201 cm. Prins Eugens Waldemarsudde, Stockholm. Photo: Lars Edelholm, Prins Eugens Waldemarsudde

And sure, some people may think “What a loser for leaving GS”, or “Look at her, another boyfriend”. Let them reduce me to just that. If this were ever said to my face, what effect would it have on my life? Absolutely none.

At 27, I’ve lived and traveled around the world, worked at world-class institutions (and still do), led art tours at Canada’s leading art institution, adore my friends and family, and loved and been loved beautifully. I’m physically able to run a marathon and happy with how my body looks and functions. I love my hair!! I’ve built my own investment portfolio from scratch - well past the 95th percentile for my age in Canada - without sacrificing any way I wanted to live my life. These are real, grounding blessings, and I don’t want to overlook them.

Our generation (and the ones after us) operates in two worlds - our physical world and the digital world. There can be a real disconnect between the two (we all know those people), but there are also huge advantages in each. I don’t find it effortless to navigate both.

My parents often say, “Just delete your social media! Why even bother?” and I totally get it. They grew up without the social dynamics of a digital world, and in many ways, that’s a blessing. But I also think it’s a shame to completely opt out of the times we’re living in. Rejecting social media entirely feels a bit like the teachers who once picketed outside their schools against the use of calculators.

I want to use social media (and writing!) as self-expression, not as social benchmarking or to feel like sh*t. I am not a celebrity, I don’t want to cosplay luxury as 100% of my life, and I don’t want to pretend to be someone else. However, I have knowledge in finance and art that I think can make people’s lives better and feels worth sharing. To do that, I’d like to get over this fear of being seen to put myself out there again.

I’ll really put myself out there in acknowledging the work I did in 2025. Not a pretty subject, but I went through hell and back with anxiety and depression after 2021 that came out of nowhere at a time in my life when I had worked hard to get where I was. Despite medical professionals telling me I’d need to “manage” it and that “everyone suffers,” I refused to accept that anxiety would just be a permanent part of my life - especially if it meant hurting myself and the people I love. So I did the work to eliminate it. For over a year, I doubled down not on coping, but on fully coming out the other side. Because I couldn’t find much information online about actually eliminating anxiety, I made a deal with a higher power: if I overcame it, I would write about it. So here it is (warning: it’s long). If anyone else is going through this, I’m always happy to talk and share what helped, because there is a way forward that doesn’t involve living with it forever.

Again, this is a pretty moody post. But sometimes being seen isn’t perfectly structured. It’s messy, hit or miss, and full of L’s taken in public. It’s putting yourself out there without expecting perfection from every sentence, photo, or chapter of your life. Life is beautiful, but you can also be thrown curveballs that suck. Progress towards impressive goals is not always glamourous, but those in-between moments count, too. BUT am I optimistic about life?? Heck ya!!

For 2026, I’m choosing to let myself be seen as I am now. Not benchmarked against a fantasy version of myself. I may be “too much” for some people, but the right people dance alongside me. I’m grateful for who I am, how I show up and how I put myself out there. Even if that means tearing up and laughing with a 60-year old coworker over Timmies.

Katya