The Value of the Unseen

I was listening to a podcast the other day with Brené Brown and Esther Perel (my therapist gurus), and they were talking about an experience where Brené was at a restaurant and overheard someone say they couldn't eat until they took a picture of their food. That moment sparked a deeper question for me—not just about food, but about how much of our value, especially in caregiving or private roles, depends on whether what we do is seen.

First, I want to clarify what I mean by “unseen” in this post. We could look at it in different ways—feeling misrepresented, not represented at all, not valued, forgotten, discarded, or lacking validation. All of these things deeply impact an individual’s sense of belonging. (Honestly, that could be its own blog post.) But for today, those aren’t the aspects of “unseen” I’m talking about.

When I mention the words seen and unseen here, I’m specifically talking about what actions and words are publicly visible. People at the restaurant can see that you ate your meal—but what about after you leave?

I resonated with this because most of my work with my kids and in my home is unseen by others. I struggled with this especially after my first child was born. I felt isolated, and like my work was invisible. The repetitive nature of the daily routine—breakfast, diaper changes, getting dressed, reading books, park visits, cleaning, laundry, dinner, dishes—felt unrecognized. Sometimes, I thought the only way my work could be visible was if I didn’t do it. If there were toys on the floor and dishes piled up, it was proof that something had happened.

As a therapist, my work had some visibility—I was meeting with students, attending meetings—but the actual content of my work was confidential. After having my son, I noticed the shift. My career had given me visibility and a sense of external achievement. Staying home felt isolating, and I struggled with a sense of diminished value, largely because my work was no longer seen.

Which brings me to this question:
What is it about being publicly seen that makes us feel validated or valued?
When we post a picture of our food and get likes, are we feeling validated by the approval and comments from others?

Once I became a mom, was my work less important because no one could see it?

I want to be clear—I'm not against social media. But I do think social media can reshape how we seek and define validation, especially for teenagers who are still forming their identities. We all want to feel seen. Social media provides a platform for that visibility. But it’s so easy to slip into patterns of self-worth that are driven by numbers.

• How many likes did we get on the post?

• What kind of attention did the post or reel draw?

Based on those answers, it’s easy to derive a sense of value from the outside world.

I don't think we need to do a social media fast (though I’ve done one, and it was really helpful for my mental health). Instead, we can pause and reflect:
Where does my sense of worth really come from?
If it’s coming primarily from social media feedback, maybe it’s time to run your own experiment.

What if your life isn’t publicly visible?
What if you just enjoy that dinner without posting it?
Take the picture for yourself, but let it be yours.
Does everyone need to know what you ordered, or how it tasted?

Our worth doesn’t disappear just because our activities aren’t posted.
Our worth remains, even if our work isn’t seen or acknowledged.

There is a time and place to share and celebrate.
There is also a time to hold your value quietly.

The work we do—especially the unseen, unpaid, uncelebrated work—matters.
Our lives have value even when they aren’t broadcasted.
And maybe, in remembering that, we reclaim something quieter but far more meaningful than likes.