You Can Be at a Full Table and Still Not Be There
November is the month we gather. Thanksgiving tables, holiday parties, the friend dinner that finally makes it onto your calendar. Most of us will be surrounded by people for weeks.
And a lot of us will come home from all of it maybe a little lonelier than we left.
I promise this isn’t an anti-Thanksgiving column. But most of us know the move. Someone asks “How’s work?” and we hand them the highlight reel. We laugh at the right moments. We leave before anyone gets to the second question, the one that was going to get a little more real.
That’s the uncomfortable truth about gathering. You can be surrounded by people and still be completely alone, because loneliness has less to do with how many people are around you than with whether any of them actually know you. Whether they can actually see you.
I wrote about this in my book Hunting Discomfort, and it’s still the clearest way I know to say it. Trying to connect with someone who won’t let themselves be seen is like trying to rock climb a smooth granite wall. There’s nothing to grab onto. I learned this when I climbed Devil’s Tower a few years ago (you know, that massive Wyoming rock tower featured in Close Encounters of the Third Kind.
If you’ve ever been on real rock, you know the holds are never the pretty parts. They’re the cracks, the chips, the spots where the face broke a little. Take those away and you’ve got a beautiful wall nobody can climb.
People work the same way. The polish we bring to the table, the reliable one, the funny one, the one who has it handled, is exactly what keeps everyone sliding off. The things we hide are the handholds. Our imperfections are what give someone a place to grab on and actually reach us.
It makes sense that we polish. The role was built for a reason and probably kept us safe somewhere along the way. The problem is the role gets a response, and we stay hungry.
Earlier this year I took a group up Mount Sherman here in Colorado. Fourteen thousand + feet, 60 mph winds. No performing up there (there isn’t enough oxygen for it). No hiding. Just the next step and what’s true.
Something happens to people in that kind of environment. One man went 68 minutes without checking his phone, which, trust me, counts as a breakthrough from his every 2 minutes previously. Someone else let go of something he’d carried for years.
Ericka Jones, who was with us that day, said it better than I could: inside the word community is the word unity.
The mountain is only half of it, though. The other half is what happens when somebody finally shows a crack, and the people around them don’t rush to fix it or turn away. They just stay. That’s witnessing, and it’s one of the oldest tools humans have. For most of our history, the big crossings of a life happened in community. You went through the hard thing, your people saw you go through it, and their seeing made it real.
We’ve mostly forgotten that part. We gather constantly and witness each other rarely.
So, as the calendar fills up this month, here’s what I’d invite you to try. You don’t need a mountain for this (though I’ll always recommend one).
Pick one gathering and one person at it. Before you walk in, decide on one true thing you’ll say that your usual self wouldn’t. It could be what’s actually hard right now. It could be something you’re proud of and never mention. It could just be the real answer to “How are you?” Give them a handhold.
Then do the harder half. When someone at the table offers you one, take it. Don’t fix it, don’t top it, and don’t change the subject to make everyone comfortable again. Stay.
It sounds small, and it’ll still cost you something: the version of yourself that’s been doing the gathering for you.
The table is going to be full this year either way. The question is whether anyone can reach you at it.
The Raad Five Takeaways
- A full table isn’t the same as a full life. Loneliness isn’t about how many people surround you. It’s about whether any of them truly know you.
- Your cracks are the handholds. The polished version of you, the reliable one or the one who has it handled, gives people nothing to grab. Imperfections are what let them reach you.
- The role kept you safe. Now it keeps you hungry. By our second act, most of us have perfected a version of ourselves. It earns a response, but rarely real connection.
- Witnessing is the forgotten half of community. When someone shows a crack, don’t fix it, top it or change the subject. Just stay. Being seen is what makes the hard things real.
- Bring one true thing to the table. Pick one gathering and one person this month. Say something your usual self wouldn’t, and when someone offers you a handhold, take it.
About the Author:
Sterling Hawkins is a bestselling author, keynote speaker and globally recognized thought leader in organizational culture. His growth movement has helped thousands of people, teams and companies commit to meaningful goals by embracing trust No Matter What. Learn more at sterlinghawkins.com.
