What to do with Despair?

Hidden from others I feel unknown
Hiding I am deliberately unknown
I long to be known
Yet, in despair, I hide

“I wish someone would just stand up and scream.” His head dropped, and with folded hands he turned to me. “You see,” he continued, “we’re all just passing by each other. Someone needs to wake us up—right?”

My friend had articulated something with which I resonated deeply. He felt hidden from those around him—a feeling I knew well. In his eyes was a most sincere form of anguish—being always within the sight of others yet never truly recognized—slowly growing infuriated by the passing glances of hundreds of people operating in their own world unable to see the loneliness he felt. It was not isolation that tormented him, but despair of a perpetual sense of hiddenness which was his personal prison.

Such a sense of overwhelming despair is familiar. And like my friend who longs to be seen—that is, to be known—there is far more to this longing than meets the eye. It is not simply a lack of companionship that humanity longs for. Rather, this particular sense of despair (in the form of hiddenness) is rooted in an accurate perception of the poverty of one’s own inability to be truly satisfied on their own. It is this poverty, the poverty of despair, which is poverty’s most severe form. The ultimate poverty of humanity is that every man longs for what is outside him. He is, by condition of his deepest being, poised to want what he cannot have and admire what he may never possess. The artist longs for the words of the speechmaker, the poet for the endurance of the athlete. The fundamental truth of the human condition is that everything seems lacking regardless of its immediate condition. The only constant fellowship of the soul is that it lacks and is, therefore, discontent within itself. It cries out “If only I would possess what is outside me—what others have (or are) then I would be happy!” Yet, just as the planets orbit one another by the compelling force of gravity, they may never come into contact with each other. So the soul is ever set in motion by the desire of what is outside it—desires that will never be fulfilled  for who could ever obtain all they desire? This is the paradox which drives the despair of hiddenness. Yet, the solution is not simply to no longer desire to be known. Instead, there is a reason for such a passion within the heart of all mankind—a reason which must be sought after with curiosity and dedication.

What does it mean to be Hidden?

Despite these facts which are obvious in their own right, there is another far more deceptive element within the physics of human deficiency. That is, we are each deceived by the sense that we alone suffer from the perpetual desire to be known—to obtain that which is separate from us. It is commonly thought—“I must be the only one to feel hidden due to my desire to be known  or else this world will be filled with the same unhappiness I now feel.” Time and time again these words are believed. They are among the most common symptoms of the despair of hiddenness—indeed they may even be its essence. Surprisingly, it is this sense of isolation which actually cuts across all boundaries of experience. The artist, poet, and athlete, all suffering from the same form of despair, each finding themselves despairing in their hiddenness and further hiding the shame it brings until they have all but disappeared into themselves. They put on a face, believing they are alone and silently wander about life quenching themselves on the only strength they have remaining—their self-sufficiency.

Indeed, the choice to hide in response to fear of disappointment is crippling. It is the same feeling of which my friend reminded me. Yet, hiddeness is not a new struggle for humanity. Rather, it is among the oldest struggles. This alone ought to shatter the sense of uniqueness and hopelessness that so often comes from unfulfilled longings. For while all of humanity has faced this test, from Socrates to Spurgeon, from Van Gogh to Nietzche, there must then be some hope to remedy the common curse of personal hiddenness. 

While the despair of hiddenness often leads to self-sufficiency in our society today there is far more to the story. Indeed, the real complexity of the desire to be known lies in how it shapes our  view of proper relationships. That is to say,  it is not that we simply desire to be known, cannot, and therefore wander about in solitude. Rather, we desire deep relationships—a desire which requires us to define what it means to be truly known in the first place. On one hand truly being known demands a great amount of vulnerability. Failures and struggles must be known as well as our strengths. Afterall, this is what it means to be known entirely. Yet, no doubt this is a frightening reality. Sadly, it would seem that many people convince themselves that being known can occur without allowing others to see their weaknesses. They would prefer to be known for their strengths and convince themselves that they are satisfied. I suspect these are the most hidden people among us for they have lost the very meaning (and beauty) of being known. On the other hand, however, truly being known requires an acknowledgment of the difficulty of truly knowing another person. It is easy to blame our hiddenness on the lack of effort of those around us, but it is not until you really attempt to understand another that you recognize how difficult knowing someone really is. Just as our friends, partners, and family surprise us, confuse us, and often appear far from what we expected, so do we disappoint, overwhelm, and confound those who try to know us. 

It is also common today to conflate loving another person with knowing them deeply. That is, assuming that since you experience the feeling of love towards another that you truly know them. Such an idea, in fact, inhibits truly knowing another since the feeling of really knowing them is put above them being known without preconception. A truly deep relationship which leads to being known begins is a recognition that being known does not reside in personal feeling but in the slow process of allowing another person to express themselves and receiving for what they are and will become. It is in taking another person at their word that knownness begins. In this sense, it is faith in another which is required—a rare attribute today. 

Understanding the desire to be known, therefore, lies between two ditches. On one hand, by the fear of vulnerability, and on the other, by the belief that any deep relationship can be built without faith in the other. Falling on either side not only leads to hiddenness, but deceives us into thinking that searching to be known is not worth the risk. Sadly, it is these forces of fear, vulnerability, and a lack of faith, that many are unwilling to face. They find it easier to live in hiddenness and self-sufficiency rather than walk the difficult pathway of knownness.

The Journey to Being Known

Exploring the root of the common desire to be known, I suspect, speaks more of what it means to be human than nearly any other topic. But this exploration only uncovers the immense pain and destruction which comes from the cycle of hiddenness, despair, and self-sufficiency. Overcoming this pattern, however, can only be through the recognition that hiddenness is a collective fight. It has always been so. Indeed, just as hiddenness stems from the very existence of our families, friends, and communities (who we long to be known by), so does the fight for knownness exist in every corner of community and humanity. It is an affliction upon the community, not in spite of it. 

Yet, even acknowledging the commonality of hiddenness is not enough. Healing from hiddenness may begin upon the soul’s recognition of its need for something greater. A need for the long enduring truths that could not be killed, not by violence, doubt or even the deepest disappear. Such a resolution to the natural human problem of desire is indeed ultimately found in an acceptance of need and an openness to true fulfillment. It is found in accepting the reality and depth of grace. In order to fight this grand battle against despair, we must begin by living as if we are known—for maybe we truly are already. We must acknowledge that even our most valiant efforts to be known and know others will fail—but that grace has made possible (or dare I say certain) that in spite of our actions or abilities we are known. Our meager efforts to be known will only lead to frustration, but it is clear that in the deepest of relationships, grace makes this irrelevant. Resting in the grace extended from another makes us truly known. 

What then must be done in the face of this shared, overwhelming despair that spreads, divides, and inevitably hides each soul from the knowness it longs for? I suppose, there is not much that can be done. Yet, we are left with a far more hopeful story than when we began. Grace makes our stories, regardless of their past or future struggles with despair or hiddenness, complete and beautiful. Yet, I would add—mere mortal grace is still not enough. It must be an eternal grace—one that stands beyond the mortal existence of humanity. A grace that endures, embodied in an eternal being which is both human in every way, yet cannot be destroyed by despair. For in abundant, eternal grace there is no room for lasting despair. In grace there is no hiddenness for it acknowledges weakness, invites vulnerability, and encourages one another towards what may come in spite of past, present, and future failures. It is in the example of Jesus, who lived out a life abundant in grace, which shows the possibility of true knownness. Despair dies with grace. 

I admit, it is not easy—and I suppose it has never been. But between the philosophical arguments, social solutions, and personal anecdotes which have been tried to cure despair, it has been the power of perfect grace displayed in Christ, in all its simplicity, which has killed hiddenness eternally. Life is too short and despair too powerful to trust in any other answer.