Recently, I’ve been reading through my journals from years ago.

I found this entry from November of 2013, and while I’ve made a few small changes to reflect what I know now, the heart of it still rings true for me.

Here it goes:

Pretty deep, huh?

The truth is... I’ve always tried to hide my depth.

For a long time, it felt like a source of loneliness. I believed no one really understood me — and honestly, I didn’t understand myself.

But over time, as I learned to accept — and then actually embrace — this part of myself, I started to see things differently.

It wasn’t my depth that created loneliness.

I was drowning in the anxiety of superficiality.

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The Anxiety of Superficiality

Don’t get me wrong — there’s nothing wrong with light conversation.

There’s something really lovely about being able to chat effortlessly about what’s new on Netflix, laugh over the weather, or trade stories about the little things that fill our days. Small talk has its place. It’s the social glue that helps us feel comfortable and connected.

But when superficial conversation becomes the only kind of connection we have — when we stay on the surface for too long — something unsettling begins to happen beneath it.

It’s subtle at first. A restlessness. A quiet loneliness. A deep longing.

It’s the anxiety of superficiality.

It’s that gnawing sense that while words are being exchanged, no one is really being seen. It’s that strange feeling of being surrounded by people and still feeling completely alone.

Because there’s a vast part of us — the truest part of us — that craves depth.

We need places in our lives where we can show up fully. Where we can be honest. Where we can wrestle with the real questions:

Who am I? What do I long for? What hurts? What’s messy and unfinished inside of me?

And when we have relationships that truly see us — really see us — they reflect back parts of us we can’t always access on our own. They remind us of who we are beneath the surface. They ground us.

Without these kinds of connections, it’s hard to feel rooted. It's hard to know ourselves apart from how others perceive us. And that can create a fragile kind of self-esteem — one that rises and falls based on other people’s approval or criticism.

Without depth, every mistake can feel like a referendum on our worth.

We forget that we are allowed to be human.

We forget that love can be deeper than performance.

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Why Depth Matters

This is why depth matters.

Not because every conversation has to be heavy or intense — not at all. Lightness has its joy and its purpose.

But depth is what anchors us.

Depth is where we find belonging.

And here’s the beautiful part: you don’t need dozens of deep relationships to ease the anxiety of superficiality. It might only take one or two. A friend, a mentor, a chosen family member — someone who sees past your mask and meets you right where you are.

These relationships usually aren’t found by accident. They are cultivated. They are chosen. And often, they exist outside of family — not because family is bad, but because family systems can have invisible rules about who we’re allowed to be.

Not every seed grows in every soil.

But when you find people who are willing to meet you in the depths — people who are curious about your inner world, who stay when things get messy — those are the relationships that steady you. They remind you of your wholeness.

Because while superficiality can be fun, so can depth.

Depth is where we grow.

Depth is where we’re known.

Depth is where we come home to ourselves.

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And so I wonder...

How about you?

Have you ever felt the anxiety of superficiality?

Have you ever longed for more depth, more truth, more you in your relationships?

If so — you’re not alone.

Maybe that longing is the very seed of something beautiful waiting to grow.

I’m considering creating a coaching community. If you are interested in getting more information join the Coaching Community Waitlist​

Let’s take this journey together!

​Keep shining! Julie​

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