Beneath the Surface

On what we don't see in others, and the humility of not knowing

In our daily interactions, we catch fragments of the people around us: an exchange, a tone, a pause, a change in behaviour. Without even realizing it, we begin to assemble a story. We interpret, we fill in the gaps, we make sense of what is presented to us. It is a natural human instinct, conducted not out of malice but out of habit, that helps us navigate the world and the people within it.

And yet, what we understand is often only partial.

Beneath the surface, entire stories are unfolding, quietly and often out of sight. What we see is rarely the full picture. There are layers we are not privy to, realities held with intention or simply not yet ready to be shared. It may be an illness, grief that has not found its language, a separation, a work-related strain, or something more deeply rooted that continues to shape how someone shows up. These experiences do not always make their way into conversation and are, more often than not, carried silently.

Even with those we feel close to, our understanding remains incomplete. We may know someone in a certain context, as a colleague, a friend, a family member, and feel a sense of familiarity. But we do not see them everywhere. We are not present in every moment that has shaped them, nor in every space where they are supported, where they struggle, or where they quietly thrive. What we see are glimpses, partial views into a much broader and more complex reality. What is visible is often curated, not complete.

We are wired to make meaning, and in the absence of information, we instinctively fill the space. Research in social psychology has consistently shown that individuals rely on cognitive shortcuts to interpret behaviour, often drawing conclusions based on limited context (Fiske & Taylor, 2013; Kahneman, 2011). The Fundamental Attribution Error, first introduced by Ross (1977), describes our tendency to attribute what we observe to who someone is, rather than pausing to consider what they may be navigating.

In practice, this means we may perceive distance where there is overwhelm, disengagement where there is grief, or sharpness where there is pain, often without realizing it. What this calls for is not more information, but a different posture: a willingness to pause before concluding, to remain open a little longer, and to resist defining someone based on a single moment or context. This is not about removing discernment, but about anchoring it in humility and recognizing that understanding someone fully is not a prerequisite for meeting them with care.

There are also moments, rarer and often quieter, when someone chooses to share more of their reality. When something unspoken is named or a layer is gently revealed, what is being offered is not simply information. It is trust. And trust asks something of us: it asks that we receive what is shared with care, resist the urge to speculate, and hold what has been entrusted to us without needing to interpret or reshape it.

We are not meant to hold the entirety of another person’s story. What we are offered, when we are offered it, is enough.

In Shrinking, one of my favourite television series, a quiet but recurring theme emerges: healing does not come from having all the answers. It often comes from the presence of others who choose to stay, who show up with honesty when needed, but without the urgency to define, interpret, or fix everything. Support, in that sense, does not require full visibility into someone’s life. It requires presence, steadiness, and respect for what is shared, and for what is not.

Perhaps this is where compassion takes a more grounded form. Not in knowing more, but in accepting that we do not know everything, especially with those closest to us, where the desire to understand can be stronger. And yet, this too is part of being in relationship with others.

Beneath the surface, there will always be more. The work is not to uncover it all, but to make peace with that reality, to meet others with greater restraint in our assumptions, and with deeper care in how we respond. We do not need to know everything about someone to show up for them well.

And perhaps that is the point.

Research that informed this reflection:

Ross, L. (1977). The intuitive psychologist and his shortcomings: Distortions in the attribution process. In L. Berkowitz (Ed.), Advances in experimental social psychology (Vol. 10, pp. 173–220). Academic Press.

Fiske, S. T., & Taylor, S. E. (2013). Social cognition: From brains to culture (4th ed.). Sage Publications.

Kahneman, D. (2011). Thinking, fast and slow. Farrar, Straus and Giroux.

For those who wish to explore further:

Fundamental Attribution Error — APA Dictionary of Psychology