Spotlight Overload: When Everyone's Performing, Who’s Holding Space?

We all walk through life needing validation, recognition, and acknowledgement of our pain. The wounded child within us is, understandably, self-absorbed—immersed in hurt and focused on survival. Because of this deep, intrinsic need, we all carry, in one way or another, “the need to be seen”—a universal human longing.

Yet, even though we crave being seen, we often struggle to understand what we actually want others to see so deeply. Sometimes, it feels as if we expect others to perceive what we ourselves cannot fully grasp. And when they fail to see what lies beneath our skin, we get angry, disappointed, or lost. But I’ll leave that part for another discussion.

The real issue begins when we remain stuck in that place, trapped in a never-ending loop of needing to be seen, understood, validated, and heard. Without realising it, the less we feel seen, the more we fall madly in love with our wounded self. We place it on a pedestal, we idolise it, we expose it like a bleeding trophy screaming to the world: “Can you now finally see my pain?”

The truth is, no one will ever be able to fully satisfy the little child within—the part of you that still longs to be loved unconditionally—except for you. This is the essence of reparenting yourself.

If this process doesn’t take place, there’s a risk that we build our identity and relationships primarily around our unmet needs. We may sabotage ourselves, unconsciously manipulate or hurt others, and then feel abandoned or disappointed when they don't play the role we had hoped for. We move from one stage of life to another, hoping to finally satisfy and fill that inner void—but no matter how hard we try, it remains empty and hollow, only deepening the pain.

Eventually, the pattern that was originally shaped by external circumstances becomes something we ourselves maintain. We keep spinning the same wheel—faster and faster—until it becomes so powerful and consuming that breaking free feels almost impossible. (breaking free from dysfunctional patterns). 

I speak about this because, like everyone else, I’ve been there again and again. I’ve moved from one place to another, begging, longing, and feeding the vicious cycle of feeling rejected, unloved, unseen, misunderstood, uncared for, unliked, and unappreciated for most of my life. I tried every possible technique to make myself more visible. I blamed everything and everyone I could—God included.

But fortunately, after hitting rock bottom more than once, I began to realise that the lens I’ve been looking through is so thick and distorted that I can’t even recognise love and appreciation when they’re right in front of me. No matter how much others love or care for me, it never feels like enough—or good enough.

So what’s really going on with us?

The love we seek is like a mirage in the desert. Desperate for water, we see it where it isn’t. We imagine it, let the vision possess us, and then we fantasise, building it into something unreal. We decorate the illusion until we become distant and disconnected from others and, most importantly, from the true source of love within us: our soul.

I still remember the very first time I went to see this incredible astrologer when I was 21. She didn’t know me at all—yet the moment she looked at me, she said: “You’re not being punished by God or anyone. You’re not unlucky. In fact, you’re incredibly lucky. Stop playing the victim.”

Those words hit me like a thunderbolt. I was shocked and thought it was because she didn’t know what I had been through…  Up until then—and for a long time after—I continued to experience myself as a martyr. Someone wronged by fate, punished by the gods, fueled by a quiet fury to seek revenge and prove them all wrong. I wanted to show the world that they had made a terrible mistake about me and would make them see it. 

What happened after is that life continued to hit me harder and harder. Because of my obstinacy and lack of faith, I risked ruining my life for good on multiple occasions until I found myself at a crossroads. Finally, I chose to listen and to start partially removing the thick armour I have built around me. Listening was so painful, but this time was a different kind of pain.  

Pain and purpose walk hand in hand. We choose both—whether we believe it or not. We are part of an immense life project where everyone is strategically positioned in the perfect spot. It was chosen and was planned long before we became a body, and because of that, life happens the way it does with the people that are a part of it, especially the people that caused the pain and forced us to find meaning deep down into our existence. We don’t need to love our enemies, but we need to understand how the shadow subtly operates so we can unlock that wonderful light that is under it, or we can choose to focus on the damage and never rise from it, remaining trapped and paralysed; it’s a choice.

The more we resist, the more we suffer, the more we avoid it, the more we struggle, the more we deny it, and the more we reject our existence... Without awareness, we’re swept away by the very forces we chose to embody.

I’ve never met anyone who doesn’t carry their load of hurt. And it makes sense to me, each of us is tested in unique ways, like a personal curriculum that refines certain skills, shapes character, and forges resilience.

But putting wounded children on stage is not the answer. It creates a dangerous dynamic—one where people become deluded, believing they are vessels of ultimate truth. I’ve been learning something important: we are not here to perform truths for others. We are here to embody them. Values only matter if they’re embodied with integrity and coherence, especially in healing or research work. Now more than ever, it’s time to look honestly at our behaviours and inconsistencies.

The ego, the inner child, wants to serve itself. It wants mummy and daddy all to itself. It doesn’t want to share attention. It clings tightly, fearing loss, as though letting go would mean death.

But the sacred self, the soul, is capable of deep, selfless love. It is here to serve. It doesn’t need applause. It offers itself humbly, with no objectives or strategy. 

The biggest contrast I find humanity experiencing is the split between the search for freedom and love, and the amplification of personal wounds to the point that pain has become performative. 

If you’re hurt, you get the spotlight. We share how the world has done us wrong, and the crowd gathers to applaud and console, and then we start giving awards to each other in an endless competition of who has suffered more injustice and who should have the biggest spotlight of the month or the year, depending on trends. 

And then we create groups to share and linger into who are the bad people and who are the good ones, but never take responsibility for how we are a part of the project, we just claim sovereignty over injustice as the good people against the bad ones… 

But is this healthy?
When did dysfunction become our cultural identity? Have our inner children finally found a way to get the attention they’ve always longed for? I say this often: children are clever. But in all this madness, where are the adults?

I’ve had my share of drama in this, too. I’m not above it. I wrestle with this dilemma, especially when I catch myself compromising my values just to be more visible, when I stop listening to my inner voice and get tricked all over again. But in those moments, I pause and ask myself: What lies beneath this need to be seen?

Inner children throw tantrums because they need attention. And let’s not forget the inner teenager—fiery, rebellious, and difficult to manage. Do you love them? Do you sit with them? Most importantly, do you ever hold them?

As we learn to contain, care for, and lovingly discipline these parts of ourselves, we begin to understand what it truly means to sacrifice for growth and to support healing. Every parent knows this truth.

But when that craving for attention becomes constant, it turns toxic. It fosters a culture of codependency, victimhood, and emotional stagnation. Even worse, it leads us down a path of devolution.

I get it—it’s hard to lead from joy, love, and faith when you haven’t experienced much of it. But how can we help one another rediscover that? How can we become authentic inspirations, raising our humanity and rebuilding community on genuine care, support, and love, without hidden agendas?

We are in the middle of an important transition—one of opposites and extremes—with the hope of maturing into a new way of being. One less egotistical and more aligned with spirit and soul, and God.

Yes, I said God—whatever that name means to you. Because we’ve forgotten our spiritual nature. Without that, we remain trapped in cycles of wound worship and the need for constant validation.

Redefining God helps us redefine our society, from the top down and inside out. We need to return to embodied principles—truth, love, service.  Love for ourselves. Love for one another. Love for the divine spark in all of us.

We must come together in our differences. Without a soul, we won’t evolve into the consciousness we’ve been longing for. We are lost, isolated, and confused because we are disconnected from the Source that gives life meaning.

I’ve lost and found God many times on this path. My beliefs aren’t religious, and over and over, I’ve learned that God is the expression of spirit in me—my unique relationship with my Self. The force that keeps me curious, present, and seeking.

My soul has taught me this: I don’t get to quit. Whatever needs to happen will happen. No matter how hard I try to resist. Remaining stagnant in the pile of pain we carry isn’t helping anymore. That pain is now our choice—we either use it to grow, or we keep parading it like a trophy, waiting to be crucified again by the world’s gaze.

Have the courage to find your project within that pain. Let it inspire your healing. Take your inner child off the stage. Take them home. Care for them in private.

You don’t need the world’s applause. Protect the intimacy of what you’re learning. Let it deepen. Don’t let the temptation of performance override your discernment. Paradise is learning to contain these opposites without losing balance.