Feeling Invisible in a Noisy World

Feeling Invisible In A Noisy World

Last night my daughter came home from the gym really upset. Now, I won’t go into particulars because it’s her story to tell and actually not even really worth it, but she felt overlooked, ignored, and was feeling a little invisible in a noisy world. As she told me the story I tried to stay impartial and fair. I tried my very best to be reasonable and give the benefit of the doubt. But did I think she had a reason to be upset? Yeah. Probably. Did I also get really, really hurt and overreact (behind her back, of course), texting a friend in tears who thankfully talked me off the ledge from sending a nasty email to the owner? You betcha I did.

Over something that really, in the long run, probably doesn’t even matter.

And this weekend, in a completely unrelated situation, my husband made a parenting decision unilaterally, meaning he did not consult me on it before it was all said and done. Was it a big parenting decision? Yeah. Pretty big. Was he intentionally slighting me and cutting me out of the process? No. Not really. He was logically solving a problem on the fly with the information he had at the moment. Did I overreact and flip out a little? You betcha I did. Because I felt overlooked, ignored, and invisible in a noisy world.

Y’all…..feeling invisible sucks.

See…my daughter, she felt invisible because something that she maybe should have been given a year ago and wasn’t was extended to someone else right now who was, arguably, maybe not quite as worthy of it as she was. Not a huge deal. But it stung because she felt invisible. Me? I felt invisible too at that moment. Feeling like I somehow didn’t do the right thing or say the right thing or fight hard enough for her to get this same privilege. Like we were both invisible, passed right over. And the parenting thing, while what Jeff was really doing was solving a problem for one of his kids without  thinking too deeply about it, what I heard was “Your opinion on this does not matter and, further, neither do you.”

Yes, I realize in both situations there was a huge leap from A to Z without really stopping to even so much as glance at the rest of the letters of the alphabet, but still, I’d argue that one of the most basic needs we have as humans is to be SEEN. And when we’re not. It stings more than a little.

The truth is that we are all scrambling in one way or another to feel significant. No one, not even the most introverted of introverts, wants to be completely insignificant and invisible. Everyone wants to matter. And the sad fact is that many of us don’t feel like we do. We live in a world of influencers and celebrities with follower counts in the millions. We live with 24-hour news and 24-hour social media and 24-hour noise of this world, so many people screaming LOOK AT ME! LOOK AT ME! And then we look at our little lives (because for the most part, that’s what we live) and we can so easily think I.DO.NOT.MATTER. And, at least for me, almost nothing hurts worse.

I’m realistic enough when I examine this, as I’m sitting on my hands to keep from sending a mean parent email to a gym coach, to know that this is a struggle I’m feeling particularly sensitive on at the moment. I’m feeling very little and small and insignificant. I haven’t always and am old enough to know that I won’t always, neither. But, right now, I am. So when I feel even the tiniest perceived slight, or worse yet my kid feels one, every hackle stands up and I am ready for a fight.

Just ask my husband. He received the full brunt of my hair-trigger rage this weekend.

These middle years of parenting are rife with insignificance. They are so incredibly busy and so packed with minutiae that, if it were not for my constantly running, exhausting mental encyclopedia of “we need this now” and “he has this tomorrow,” none of my family would be able to function. I am the alarm clock, the constant reliable ride. I am the schedule keeper (which is harder than you’d think for three kids in school and sports). I make lunches. I manage lives. I know things subconsciously that if I were to die tomorrow, would just be lost. And they’re so subconscious that I wouldn’t even know where to start transferring that information over. Ask any mom out there, it’s this unconscious load of knowledge and responsibility that is nearly back-breaking yet almost always, down to a T, unnoticed and unappreciated.  And further, unlike when your kids are little and adore you and are basically attached like velcro to your body, when they’re older they don’t want too much to do with you and think you’re pretty lame so you find yourself more alone more often than not. Like, there is no happy medium.

And these middle years of marriage, they’re hard in their own way too. Jeff is burdened down with work and trying to support a family and I’m burdened down with managing one and when we have a spare moment the last thing we have the energy to do is go on a date or, heck, even put on pants. Our conversations, which used to go deep and talk about goals and dreams and thoughts (though not much feelings because if know my husband, well, you know), have gone a little quiet unless we’re talking kids or schedules or pick-up times. We’re mostly two ships passing in the night as we both are trying to stay afloat. And it’s kind of lonely.

And then, this burnttoast world I’ve been building, well I’m even left wondering about that. Does it even matter? Do you even hear me? Should I be bigger by now? Is anyone even listening? And it’s hard because logically I know that I am doing something that is speaking to some people at least, but in this world of macro-influencers who take beautifully staged pictures in their perfectly appointed houses and get big-money deals to tell us which toothpaste they use, I feel like an absolute nothing sometimes. I feel invisible. Insignificant. Silenced.

Now please hear me when I say this, I am not whining. I realize feeling significant is the most first-world problem of first-world problems, and I know that with three healthy children, one great husband, and a pretty good thing that I’ve built solely on my own from scratch that I’m blessed to do, I’m really doing ok. But it’s also true that it’s a human need to be seen and heard and I’ve found that since writing is my therapy, whenever I share something like this where I’m really struggling, someone else will say “oh yes ME TOO!”

So here we are.

Listen, this world is very, very loud. There are billions of people on this planet* and probably hundreds in your individual circle of life and activities and schools. And every single one of those people is vying for significance in some way. The noise of that is crushing, and it’s easy to find yourself lost in the shuffle. The simple fact, though, is that most of the things we do in our lives that really matter, the ones that have a lasting impact and are the most important, they’re quiet things. They’re not significant and often not visible. The world tells us that influence matters, that platforms matter. So you feel small when you don’t have one. But what really matters is that you’re loving the people in your life in the best ways possible–by showing up, by being there, by loving them even when they’re acting the fool. The world says you need to have a title and a big job and a fancy car to matter. But when you’re just showing up and doing what you were meant to do, even if it’s to an audience of one, that is what matters.

I know that all of this is trite and you’ve heard it before. But none of that changes the fact that it’s true. You do matter. Even if what you’re doing is so small you think no one notices. They do. And it does. I feel with every ounce of my body that there is not one person on the face of this planet who doesn’t matter. Or was put here by mistake. You are significant. To the world. To your family. To your friends. Even when you feel overlooked and invisible. Yes, even then.

So, dear friends. I want you to know that I see you.

I see you, Mom, who has changed her 7000th diaper. You matter.

I see you, Mom, who is sitting in carpool for the 13th time this week. You matter.

I see you, Dad, who works long hours at a job he doesn’t love so he can support his family. You matter.

I see you, working mom, coming home tired but still doing the things you have to do to keep your family thriving. You matter.

I see you, single parents, doing the job of two. You matter.

I see you hustlers, entrepreneurs, and mombosses. And I see you 9 to 5 girl (and boy) bosses that don’t have time to chase purpose because you’re chasing goalz. You matter.

I could go on and on and on with this list. No matter what you’re doing, where you are, and what your life looks like at the moment, even if it’s a mess, you matter.

Now I know I’m just some lady in Texas you’ve probably never met and maybe you don’t care that I think you matter. And maybe you don’t actually personally matter to me (though I’d argue that if you’re reading this, you do more than you know). But I just know deep down in my core that you matter to someone. Probably a lot of someones.  You’re not invisible. You’ve got a reason for being on this planet. If you weren’t here anymore, the world would stop spinning for someone; someone’s heart would break. No matter how insignificant you feel, I know you’re significant to someone. You, just by being you, make someone’s world a better place. And that, dear friends, matters.

More than you’ll ever know.

Peace, love, and being seen,

Meg

*not an actual stat I’m too lazy to look it up so don’t @ me. You get it. There’s a lot.

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