TGIF :: "I Don't Know."
#119 || On curated vulnerability, sacred privacy, and the courage of not knowing yet
I publish bi-weekly on undimming — the practice of noticing when we’re numbing or escaping through food, work, shopping, sex, exercise, snark, substances, or over-functioning, and choosing differently. The framework is the Eight Awarenesses. Prior posts here. Information about my recent book, upcoming events, and more via my website and at the end of this post.
This week I explore this notion of what we share with others and what we keep more private. I’m intrigued by how this shifts when we undim which can be transformative to our relationships and our lives.
Two Houses
Last week I had a dream that’s still with me. I was visiting the home of a famous person I admire. I was excited to see her entryway, her kitchen, the decor, meet her kids, and experience the details of her life up close. It felt personal, intimate even. Then someone mentioned there was another house, a smaller one behind this one. That was the real house… quieter, more sacred, shared only with family and a few close friends. Outsiders don’t go there. I was intrigued, then mildly disappointed, then profoundly respectful and appreciative of that boundary.
Waking up, a question has stayed with me: What’s my back house? Given how open I am, do I even have one?
The Front of the House
I worked in numerous mid- to high-end restaurants in my twenties. One of the first things you learn in that world is the difference between the “front of the house” and the “back of the house.”
The front is what diners see. It’s polished and welcoming with warm lighting and soft music. Plates arrive at the right temperature, water glasses are silently refilled, and servers move effortlessly.
The back is where the real work happens. Upbeat music, bright lighting, steady heat, noise, controlled chaos, and the kind of creative improvisation that makes the polished front possible. Neither is better than the other. They just play different roles, and neither works without the other.
A Home for the Sacred
Even for those of us who share intimate things publicly, there has to be a “place” that’s just ours. It’s not somewhere to hide, it’s a place for the intimate and the sacred. A “room” that’s only candlelit, or a corner—a private setting—in which we share stories with our kids. Maybe it’s the time during which we can lie down with our lover and share our deepest fears and relish in an unconditional embrace.
This isn’t because we are afraid to show others, nor is it an effort to hide anything. It’s because some things are simply for a tighter group, or just ourselves. It’s where the making happens too. Things shift as they are known and sometimes we need space to experiment and learn before inviting or allowing the perspectives and energy of others. And let’s be honest, sometimes we don’t want to air out our messes.
Dimming Crowds the Back of the House
When we’re dimming, whether with alcohol, work, food, or any habit we use to escape what’s uncomfortable, a lot gets pushed to the back of the house. Reality gets concealed, packaged, or denied. We’re often hiding something from others or ourselves. The front becomes a performance, a mask we wear, a controlled boundary that conceals what’s really going on beneath the surface. No two of these experiences are alike. For some it’s shame. For others it might be fear. Some might be in simple denial: Everything is fine. I am fine. I’ve got it.
I spent years researching and writing in the field of addiction, recovery, and healing as Undimmed was being birthed to the world. Along the way I grew a deep fascination with how clarity can redefine relationships (you can read my first piece on the Fifth Awareness here). When we dim less, we are more real with others—and ourselves—and this is transformative.
It can be awkward too.
“I don’t know”
About a decade ago I was head of legal and revenue at a high-pressure Silicon Valley startup. My CEO and I took regular walks around downtown Palo Alto to talk through issues, shape strategy, work through whatever was in front of us. (I was still wearing heels then. The steps I put in on concrete, toes crammed into pretty leather points!)
I was good at my job but on a relentless learning curve, and I’m certain I had some form of addiction to stress in that period. My boss praised what he called “calm confidence.” On our walks he’d ask tough questions I often didn’t have answers to. I’d stay calm, offer something useful, fill in the gaps later. For a year or more: partial answers, confident-seeming pivots, thoughtful hedging.
Then one day he asked me a very specific legal question in connection with a high stakes financing deal we were trying to close. I was stumped and could feel the heat rise to my face. I stammered out “I don’t know. I’ll have to get back to you.”
He stopped walking, put a hand on my shoulder, and looked me straight in the eyes. “More of that, Cecily. I need and want more of that. I trust you more when you are honest with me.”
We had a different working relationship after that.
Acknowledging Packaged Vulnerability
In the early days of living clear, I was sharing a lot (albeit anonymously behind my IG). Eventually I was writing in my own name about my story, my choice to stop drinking, what it felt like to enjoy living alcohol free (better sleep! clear eyes! more energy! lost weight!). I genuinely believed I was being open. It felt like courage, coming forward with something that carries stigma, naming a habit most people keep quiet, and acknowledging some missteps along the way.
Looking back, I can see now that I was sharing the parts that had already resolved, the parts I’d made sense of. The story positioned me already on solid ground, looking back at the mess rather than standing in it. It felt like vulnerability, it sounded like vulnerability… I was even praised for my vulnerability… but it was still curated. Still managed. It was still the front of the house, already beautified with its packaging. It framed me as a hero too, which had its perks.
Researchers who study self-disclosure have found that we tend to share past vulnerability alongside current success. It’s this combination that creates the feeling of authenticity in others. We’ve gotten very good at curating our confessions. Sharing enough to seem honest, but only once the story has a shape. I used to struggle. Here’s what I learned. That’s not vulnerability. That’s a performance of vulnerability, freshly plated.
Brené Brown, in a conversation with Adam Grant, said that some of the people who disclose the most are the least genuinely vulnerable people she’s ever encountered. The distinction isn’t what you reveal, it’s whether you’re still exposed when you say it.
I think that’s the difference. When denial or fear decides, it all stays back there, the mess, the uncertainty, the unfinished things, the questions we can’t answer yet. When intentionality and consciousness decide, we get to choose. Some things come forward. Some things stay protected. And the undecided? The ones that haven’t even taken shape yet? There’s a good reason we choose with whom we share these thoughts carefully.
My Back of the House
With hopes we might learn together, here’s where I actually am:
I’ve pushed four big “life boulders” up a hill over the last year (launching a kid, publishing a book, closing a fundraise, and marrying my beloved). I’m at a clearing, taking in some perspective, catching my breath. In a time of relative health and ease (a blessing!), I’m exploring what’s next, while also trying to be disciplined about space and rest.
In the project arena, I am also navigating a decision I haven’t been able to make between two compelling but massive time + money commitment paths. One is a documentary project, stepping into a whole field I’ve never worked in. The vision is bold, risky, and alive with possibility. It’s the kind of thing that could fail spectacularly or have a huge long-term positive impact. The other is a second book about a life changing learning I want to embark upon. It’s quieter, deeper, probably more tedious, and definitely more personal. And, it’s something I already know how to do, write and publish a book.
And that last part is exactly the problem. Because knowing how to do something means my ego has more room to operate, but also that the stakes are oddly higher. I have less freedom to stumble as a genuine beginner. At least when we are doing something for the first time we have plenty of room to make mistakes and still save face.
“You have good intuition, listen to that,” a friend said recently. Yeah, I do, and I’ve spent a lot of time exploring it as the Third Awareness. I believe in it, I even rely on it. I’ve felt it guide me in ways I couldn’t have engineered with my rational mind. And right now, my intuition feels stuck, quiet. Some days that feels like patience. Some days I wonder if I’ve lost something. Will it come back? Maybe I just need to rest? Maybe I just need more time?
See? Messy.
Neuroscientists who study decision-making have found that ambiguity, not knowing the odds, not even knowing the outcome, activates the amygdala more intensely than plain risk. Our brains are literally wired to find I don’t know more distressing than this might go wrong. I guess I’m mildly comforted knowing that extended and genuine uncertainty isn’t a character flaw, it’s actually neurologically hard.
And I’m appreciating that the “I don’t know part” is even farther back, even less accessible, less visible, than the back of the house. We don’t even have a plan yet. It’s a space full of potential, but also uncertainty.
I don’t know how I feel about this liminal space quite yet. I don’t know which project I’m choosing, yet. I don’t know what my intuition is trying to tell me, yet. I’m writing this from inside that uncertainty, not from the other side of it. And it all feels sacred, special, important, and private. There’s a lot I don’t know, and that’s ok. I’m working with that.
More of that. That boss of mine was right.
Miscellaneous…
First, a Question: What’s in your back of the house right now? Not the thing you’ve already packaged into a reflection or a lesson, but the thing that’s still unresolved? I’d love to know.
A Book to Share: Our friend Eoghan recommended Anam Cara recently. I’m captivated by this capture of Celtic spirituality and mysticism by beloved poet and philosopher John O’Donohue. He excavates themes of friendship, belonging, solitude, creativity, and the imagination, among many others in a timeless immediately applicable way.
A Yearlong Program: Two of my absolute favorites, Dr. Sara Szal and Elena Brower are together launching something special for women on how to best honor and support the body, mind, emotional field, intuitive capacity and rest. The curious among us are invited to join a free informational session on May 21st at 10a PT/ 1p ET, info here.
Undimmed Podcast Season 2 is happening! We are framing each episode around an awareness and started recording last week with a plan to launch in early September.
Come say hi at an upcoming event:
Tuesday May 12th, 5-7p, Alchemy Springs & Sauna Garden, San Francisco: Taking place during Human Tech Week, hosted by Conscious Talent: “The Future of Conscious Company Building” a panel including Diana Chapman (Conscious Leadership Group), Dave Hersh (Metamorph Ventures), Stacey Lawson (Positive AI Labs) and me. Details and registration here. Space is limited.
Thursday May 14th, 9-10a PT (online): Featured speaker, Teens & Alcohol: Honest Conversations Without Fear or Shame focused on how we talk with teens about habits, pressure, and choice without fear-based framing. Hosted by The Institute of Child Psychology. Registration here. I will share about my own journey growing up and parenting my own teen sons on the topic of alcohol.
Thursday May 14th, 11a-6p, SF Jazz Center, San Francisco: Please join us (and many friends!) at Wisdom & AI
Friday May 15th (AM session), Shack 15, San Francisco: Speaking at the Reimagining Science Education Summit. This one is more about our work with Wisdom Ventures (and we closed our second fund last week - press here).
Tuesday June 9th, 6p: Hold Nothing x Undimmed: The Ways In with Elena Brower at The Portal in Mill Valley. Details here. (Members only, lmk if you want a spot on our list!)
Loved reading this! Sharing the messy middle is so goddamn hard, and that place on indecisiveness is a place in time I share often. People often say to me “you’re so lucky to have so many options of possibility”, which is in fact true. But it can feel like a curse at times too, when my intuition isn’t pulling me in any one way. Like standing in a forest with 6 different paths ahead and a clock ticking on my shoulder. It’s not even the concept of failing that gets me.. but the lack of clarity and overwhelm of choosing where I want to go that paralyses me at times!
A lovely read and thought provoking - thank you. Definitely going back to read past stories!
See you next week at the Education Summit.