Bravely Connected

I want to share something that has been sitting with me since a simple, unplanned conversation I had with one of my boys. It wasn’t formal. There was no agenda. We were just talking honestly about how we were really doing and how we were actually feeling.

What surprised me was how deeply that conversation mattered.

The Weight of January and the Illusion of Belonging

January can be a heavy month for many people. Here in Canada, we even have something called Blue Monday. It’s dark. The days are short. In the depths of winter, the sun can set as early as 4 p.m., and everything feels dim—both literally and emotionally.

After the holidays, the excitement fades. Routines return. Life can feel flat. And as we come out of December, many of us have spent weeks scrolling through social media—seeing family photos in matching pajamas, teenagers smiling at parties, highlight reels that suggest everyone else is doing just fine.

That constant exposure can quietly create a sense that we’re watching life from the outside looking in. It can stir feelings of not belonging, of not being known, of not being rooted anywhere. What’s striking is that this sense of disconnection can exist even within our own homes.

That’s what I noticed in my conversation with my son. As we talked, I heard things from him that I didn’t even know—things he had been carrying quietly inside. And I found myself sharing parts of my own heart that I hadn’t voiced before either.

We live in the same house. And yet there were parts of his heart I didn’t know, and parts of mine that he didn’t know.

Our Longing to Be Known

I don’t think this experience is rare. Most of us move through our days doing what needs to be done—school, work, responsibilities. We spend time together, but we don’t often slow down enough to truly hear one another’s hearts.

At the core of being human is a deep longing to be known. We often talk about wanting to be seen and understood, but being understood is more complicated than we like to admit.

We are all wired differently. We see the world through different lenses. Even people who love each other deeply don’t interpret life in the same way. I know my husband and I don’t.

This is one reason online spaces can feel so appealing. You can read something written by a stranger and think, Yes, that’s exactly how I feel. That person might live across the world, yet you feel more understood by them than by the people in your own home or neighborhood.

Slowly, we begin connecting more online than with the people right in front of us.

Why Being Understood Can’t Be the Goal

Here’s something I want to say clearly: being understood cannot be the goal of connection.

If it is, we will almost always feel disappointed.

I don’t always feel understood by the people closest to me. Sometimes it takes me a long time just to get my thoughts out. When I think about the friendships where I feel most understood, they are relationships that have spanned over 30 years. And even then, we are still evolving, growing, and changing.

If I understood someone 20 years ago, do I still understand them today? No—because none of us are static.

So instead of striving to be understood, I want to invite us into something deeper: being known.

What It Means to Be Known

Being known is not the same as being understood. Being known lets people off the hook from having to fully “get” you. It’s about being rooted—rooted in yourself.

It’s about belonging that doesn’t disappear when someone misunderstands you. Belonging isn’t just social. It’s spiritual. Even if you’re not religious, this goes beyond relationships and into identity—where your self-worth and grounding come from.

This brings me to another idea that came up in my conversation with my son: our obsession with happiness.

Why Happiness Can’t Be the Goal Either

I told my son something important: everyone is battling something. No matter how perfect someone’s life looks, every single person is in a fight of some kind.

Happiness cannot be our ultimate goal because it’s a moving target. What makes me happy today is different from what made me happy ten years ago, and it will be different again in the future.

Here’s my own honest truth: I don’t often feel happy. I show up. I do my work. And sometimes it feels heavy. Sometimes it feels lonely.

When people tell me how positive, bubbly, and optimistic I am, that’s often when I feel the least understood. Because beneath that exterior is loneliness. Being a leader often means stepping into things that no one else understands yet. Much of what I’ve created over the last 25 years began with just me—sometimes even my own husband didn’t understand what I was trying to do.

Loneliness has been a familiar companion. And it’s exactly why belonging matters so deeply to me. It’s why I notice the people on the edges, the ones sitting quietly in the corners, the ones who feel like they don’t quite fit.

Being Witnessed Instead of Fixed

When we finally get brave enough to share the deep things inside of us, it’s incredibly vulnerable. And sometimes the person listening doesn’t know how to hold what we share.

So they prescribe. They give advice. They try to fix us. They offer strategies, scriptures, therapy referrals, medications.

But often, people don’t want to be fixed. They want to be witnessed. They want to feel known in that moment.

When that doesn’t happen, loneliness only deepens.

Creating Spaces Where People Can Be Known

Over the past year and a half, I’ve helped shape a faith community with a simple rule: we never tell anyone what they should believe.

We sit face to face. We eat together. We listen. We share honestly. We end in a circle. There’s no hiding. The goal isn’t answers—it’s honesty. Where are you really at in your life?

It’s been beautiful, brave, challenging, and deeply healing. For many people, especially those shaped by prescriptive religious environments, letting go of advice-giving is difficult. This kind of community is a slow build, and it often requires repeating the vision again and again because we’re simply not used to living this way.

Being Known Before We Enter the Room

What I’ve learned is that being known has to happen before we enter rooms.

For me, being known ultimately comes from being known by something greater than myself. Because if I walk into a room needing others to define me, I will shapeshift. I will become who I think you need me to be.

I don’t want to live that way anymore. I want to show up as fully myself. Yes, I’m bubbly—but beneath that is deep reflection. Beneath the positivity is self-doubt.

To live this way, I have to stay grounded. For me, that grounding is a spiritual practice. True belonging touches every part of us—emotional, mental, physical, and spiritual.

An Invitation Into Deeper Belonging

This is why I created a 45-day belonging journey. It’s not a sales pitch. It’s something I created because belonging needs to be cultivated.

For 45 days, participants listen to five to seven minutes of audio each day, followed by a journal prompt. Everything I share is rooted in what I’ve practiced to feel known—not understood. People still don’t always understand me, but I no longer rely on performance or approval to feel known. I feel known simply in being.

February feels like the perfect time for this journey. It’s a month of love, but it can also be a month of deep loneliness. My hope is that as you become more grounded, you not only feel more at home in yourself but also begin creating the kinds of tables others are searching for. Want in? Email me at Connie@conniejakab.com

Belonging Starts Within

When you are bravely connected to yourself, you can be bravely connected to others. Belonging doesn’t begin when someone understands you. It begins when you allow yourself to be known.

Loneliness often hides behind looking fine, like everything is okay. But true belonging starts within you—not in the rooms you enter.

Keep being brave.