Cellophane

I assume I’m invisible most days. It’s an inherited behavior from a passive family, but I live and move under the expectation of being talked over, interrupted, innocently forgotten. I’m more surprised when it doesn’t happen. It’s a bit embarrassing to admit, and as I’m writing I already feel the noise from you with quotes from self help books, reels of knowledgeable people talking about how to be more assertive and a swift diagnosis that I am at fault for projecting my own isolation. 

Be louder, stronger, better.

To cut right to it, I have no intention of changing myself. I don’t want to be more charismatic or attractive, I don’t want to be louder or take up more space in the room. I super, duper love being me exactly as I am. And once you've passed 30 you really don’t have the energy to impress or the flexibility to bend over backwards the way you used to. 

I went on a trip with a group of fellow tourists recently, and there was a specific couple that really exacerbated this feeling for me. I felt like I was in high school again. It had the specific feeling of when the rest of the class gets invited to the birthday party with the cool girls and I didn’t. I spent four weeks with this group and I don’t even know if these girls know my name- and it’s innocent. They just seemed to live in a different world than me. They interrupted me, reached over my head for things, and innocently yet irritatingly photobombed every photo I wanted to take, started talking to people who I was actively having a conversation with- all things that verified this narrative that they really just don’t see me. 

I wrestled with myself for a week or so after the trip about how I should have looked more friendly to talk to, or should have been bubbly or more extraverted and should have taken the initiative to start a conversation with them. And yeah, that last one probably. Maybe. I don’t know. When I got home and was telling friends about this situation I was surprised to see others soften immediately to my hurt little heart. Without needing to hear the words, I could tell they knew this feeling intimately, and that it was heartbreaking for them to hear someone else experience it too. 

I wish I could say I’m writing with a clever ending in sight, my grand a-ha moment, but I’m simply writing just to share myself with you. Life is wobbly and uncomfortable, some days I feel loved and successful and encouraged, and other days I feel invisible, heartbroken or hopeless. These contrasted feelings are interwoven throughout my week- sometimes even my day. I personally don’t think there’s a strategy or perspective shift that can save me from these low moments, I think that life is just a mixed bag. Low moments happen, and it’s normal. I feel invisible some seasons, some days, and it’s ok- even though it hurts like hell in the moment. It passes.

So many of us know rejection deeply. Life is just full of it, it’s impossible to avoid. The more you hit it, the less you want to play again. In the low moments I feel that way, that I’m exhausted and I don’t want to play anymore. 

The older I get the more weary I am about becoming a bitter woman. I want to be that old lady who wears whatever she gets tickled about, who has joy in every wrinkle and welcoming peace in her eyes, and maybe a little kooky (but in a fun way, naturally). I don’t want to be the old lady in my house saying “they’ll be sorry!” Literally everyone told me life was hard and painful, but who would have believed it was true? And it’s hard to not lose hope when you feel the same pain over and over.

So I’m somewhere between all of this. I’m not changing myself to be any bolder, I love being a quiet spirit. I’ll try to enunciate more though. I will wear whatever I feel tickled about because I need to practice that for future me. I won’t be mad at myself for not reaching out to every single person and starting a conversation, and I’ll try to let go of the bitterness that I’m simply not everyone’s cup of tea. It’s painful and hopeful, vulnerable and messy and just me on a random Tuesday.