Posted on | September 7, 2011 | 6 Comments

Lately, I’ve started to embrace my invisibility.

When I was younger and better put together, I didn’t like to blend in.  I wanted to stand out, be noticed, be friends with all the best people and go to all the best parties.  I wasn’t content with mediocrity; I wasn’t content with being a face in the crowd.

I wore bright clothes and bright make up.  I said witty things and danced whenever I heard music.  I invited people over, had parties, made friends, and well… tried to influence people.  And then I got married and my husband wasn’t much of an entertainer.  He used to tell me that having parties at our house stressed him out… he didn’t like all the prep work, the cooking and cleaning that I would do to get things ready.  So we stopped entertaining.

And slowly, I slid into the obscurity I never wanted.  The phone stopped ringing, the emails quit coming in.  No one stopped by to visit or showed up unannounced.  No one planned trips to come and stay the weekend.

My days that were once filled with lunch dates and clever email exchanges became just days… full of law and laundry and macaroni and cheese.  My nights that were once full of laughter and music became full of priority television shows and then slowly, even those faded away, leaving me in a quiet house with a sleeping child, and no one on the other end of anything.

I have become invisible.  I have faded into the wallpaper of my former friends’ lives, a dusty flower pattern of “maybe we should… no, nevermind.” I am the last to be called, the last to be remembered, the last to be thought of.  Once upon a time, I thought all of that mattered.  I thought that being important and thought of and well liked was what really and truly mattered.

And you know what? I was right.  It does.  It does matter.  What I didn’t get before is that it isn’t the concept of being important that isn’t important… it’s who you are important to.

I am important to my son.  When he gets excited and wants to scream, he yells “I LOVE MY MOMMY” at the top of his lungs.  When he falls down, he wants me there… when he does something good, he wants to share it with me.  I am important to my child.  And he is the most important person to me.

So maybe my phone doesn’t ring as often as it used to.  Maybe my emails are more likely to be spam than actual letters from friends.  But to the people who really matter to me, I am still important.

And for that reason, I’m becoming quite content with my slow fade into invisibility.  Because truthfully, I am only now invisible to the people who never really saw me in the first place.


6 Responses to “Invisible”

  1. Mrs. MidAtlantic
    September 7th, 2011 @ 1:30 pm

    Invisibility doesn’t have to be permanent. Just think of all the dance party playdates you can host in the coming years! And that patio? I see Hot Wheels racing.

  2. Anonymous
    September 7th, 2011 @ 4:48 pm

    True… and I can keep delving into the dirt in my spare time until I’ve cleansed all my scars with mother nature! 🙂

  3. Kristinayellow
    September 7th, 2011 @ 4:42 pm

    I thought I was the only one who felt this way. DH doesn’t like to go dancing so we don’t. He doesn’t like big parties or meeting new people so we don’t. I miss having people call me. I hate always having to plan things to see people. My health isn’t the greatest but man, I miss doing stuff that I enjoyed. Going to the opera, hanging out at the beach, grabbing coffee or dinner. Hell, I miss phone coversations. I miss my friends. And yet, you are right. The ones who I am invisible to aren’t real friends anyway. Still, it hurts.

  4. Anonymous
    September 7th, 2011 @ 4:47 pm

    It does, doesn’t it. It’s like having someone hold a mirror up to your face and saying “Look, see? This is you not being good enough for me.”

  5. beachmum
    September 8th, 2011 @ 12:28 am

    I see you!

  6. Heather Griffitts Clark
    September 8th, 2011 @ 2:41 pm

    You have no idea how much this particular post speaks to me…. no idea. Huge, huge hugs.

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