thinking.
This way of knowing is substantially different from how we usually “know” people. We tend to think we know someone when we’ve interacted with him a lot and formulated a theory about “how he is.” Howard is a pushover. Ashley is always late. Jenny can’t control her temper. Luke is a really nice guy.
This kind of false knowing will not generate closeness. It’s false because an objective, omniscient picture of “how Jenny is” doesn’t exist (or if it does exist, it’s unknowable to any of us). We only have our experience of how Jenny is. When you tell the tale of how another person is from your perspective, you’re making him or her into a character, a player in your own life story. This way of knowing does not bring you closer because it is really all about you.
Let’s consider Ashley, our friend who’s always late. You can think you know how she is because you know she’s late a lot. But you don’t really know Ashley until you can describe her experience of her lateness from her perspective. From her perspective, she often ends up running late because she tries to do too much. She thinks she can get that second load of laundry done or write that tenth email before heading out the door. Your version of the story is “Ashley is always late.” Her version is “I always try to do too much.”
Knowing in this way is a powerful tool for creating closeness, because once you’re able to see your friend’s experience from her perspective, she can trust that if she lets you into parts of her inner world — her beliefs, narratives, preferences — you won’t misinterpret them. The feeling of being misunderstood or misrepresented (“Ashley is always late. Howard is a pushover.”) is one of the main factors that drive people apart. Feeling truly known, however, brings people together.
Feeling truly cared about also brings people together and mitigates loneliness. Caring — the kind that creates closeness — means being able to feel and show that the other person’s well-being matters to you. Well-being encompasses the whole person, from his health and safety to his fulfillment and happiness. Caring about the whole person creates the emotional component of closeness. It is what allows you to look into your sister’s eyes and feel what she’s feeling.
The first aspect of caring — feeling the feeling of caring — starts with empathy. For many of us, this comes quite naturally. It can be very hard to watch someone you know well go through a struggle and not feel some empathy. If empathizing comes easily for you, it’s a skill that will greatly benefit you in your pursuit of closeness. If it doesn’t, don’t worry — this book will provide you with strategies for improving your emotional receptiveness.
Feeling the feeling of caring extends beyond simple empathy, though. It also means feeling the importance of another person’s health and happiness. It means you feel the gravity — the weight — of caring about his well-being. Feeling this sense of importance will ultimately move you into the second phase of caring: showing the other person you care.
Many of the ways we attempt this second phase — showing someone we care — are fraught with problems. It is in this phase where caring frequently falls apart in relationships because we’ve all learned lessons about how to show concern that are ineffective in creating closeness. In your own life, you’ve likely found that moments when you feel truly cared about are few and far between. Let’s talk about why.
Many of us have been taught to show caring by worrying about the other person, which doesn’t truly create closeness because it prompts her to prove that everything is okay with her to ease your discomfort. In addition, we may try to show caring through advising or attempting to fix the other person’s problems, which doesn’t work for creating closeness because it places you in a superior position, the one who can fix things, seeding resentment in the other person.
Real closeness requires you to adopt a new perspective on showing care in which you actively pay attention to another person’s well-being and then tell her what you see. You pay attention to how he’s doing, then let him know what you’ve noticed. It is not sharing your worries about what you’ve noticed. It is not trying to fix what you’ve noticed. It’s just expressed, thoughtful noticing.
Showing care really is that simple. And luckily, because it is that simple, we can do it in many more contexts than we normally find appropriate for showing care. We can easily show our care in this new way at work, for example. Let’s say you notice that one of your coworkers, who’s usually gregarious, is unusually quiet one day. Showing care would entail stopping by her desk and sharing your observation: “Nancy, I noticed you’re extra quiet today. You doing okay?”
A simple, interested observation, coupled with an invitation to share, is appropriate in any context. Though caring is an emotional experience, to be sure, it doesn’t have to be “intimate” in the way we usually understand the word. It’s just noticing and communicating interest in how another person is doing. You can absolutely be professional and still care.
Caring in this way is a powerful tool for creating closeness because it demonstrates a desire not only to know about someone’s deepest inner self but also to value it. You show your spouse, friend, sister, or colleague that you care enough to notice what’s going on in his or her life. Caring is, in many ways, the ultimate form of validation. Coupled with knowing, it produces an unshakable bond.
Knowing and caring can each be practiced on their own, but both are required to create true closeness. Without knowing, you may believe that a certain person cares about you but that he doesn’t really “get” you — a type of caring that is easily dismissed. Without caring, you may feel mentally connected to another but feel emotionally neglected. In other words, you may feel understood, but you won’t feel like you matter.
Caring without knowing often presents itself as annoyance and dismissiveness: “I know my dad loves me, but he doesn’t actually understand anything about my life.” Knowing without caring often shows itself as sadness and hurt: “How can my best friend — who knows literally everything about me — not realize that I’m suffering?”
Knowing and caring are a powerful combination. They create the feeling that another person not only knows your deepest, truest self, but is actively engaged in keeping your deepest, truest self well. What more could we want from our relationships?
The Benefits of Closeness
It’s hard to overstate the benefits of relationships that include knowing and caring. Beyond reducing loneliness in our social lives, closeness, as we intuitively know, is vital to leading a happy life. Those of us who are creative surely remember writing a poem, drawing a picture, or singing a song about longing for closeness, as well as love, intimacy, and connection. Art has no more fruitful topics than these.
In many ways, art is all about expressing the joy of close relationships — and the sorrow of losing them — but science has something to say about the benefits of closeness as well. My favorite explanation of these benefits was offered by psychologist John Bowlby, known for his pioneering work in attachment theory. He summarizes the importance of close relationships like this: “True intimacy with others is one of the highest values of human existence; there may be nothing more important for the well-being and optimal functioning of human beings than intimate relationships.”
“Well-being” and “optimal functioning” are not fanciful notions. They’re not abstract constructs of the imagination or ambitions that are too lofty for us to achieve. They are simply the things that make us feel well and do well in life. They are practical benefits. They are the difference between being excited to get up each day and being unable to drag yourself out of bed. They are the difference between feeling happy and feeling sad, between feeling capable and feeling incapable. And they are closely related to intimate relationships.
The
