Everyone Counts!

“Invisible
just like your love, I feel invisible
You treat me like I‘m not really there
and you don‘t really care.”

Alison Moyet, Invisible

When I first heard Alison Moyet’s “Invisible” back in 1985, I immediately resonated with the angry lyric and anguished melody. I especially loved the bells that rang every time she sang “Invisible, I feel like I’m invisible... you treat me like I‘m not really there.” Unfortunately, bells didn’t go off in my head at the time. I was drawn to the song, but I didn’t understand that deep down I honestly felt invisible; like I didn‘t count and no one cared. Today I get it.

It’s easy for us, as children, to develop a sort of invisibility screen. As we grow into five or six years old, we begin to feel the effects of the chaos that swirls around our little worlds. We come to understand that some people aren’t safe, and so we learn to make ourselves scarce when they are around. We learn to keep our distance from them, and when that’s not possible, we learn to make ourselves disappear. We become like wallflowers-- quiet and motionless-- around them. We don’t utter a sound. We barely breathe. We either remain statuesque in their presence or, if we feel we can escape, we move quickly and quietly outside of their radar.  

Survival techniques, like becoming invisible, are essential for children, who are primarily powerless over the world around them. But these techniques can cause us major problems as adults. I put up a stealth invisibility screen as a child. It became my second skin and I wore it to protect myself all through grade school, high school, college and long into my adult life. I thought it was safer to be invisible than it was to face the ugliness of twisted people, even if that meant never being emotionally accessible to the genuine people. I was wrong.

You see, I missed out on many good friendships and relationships because I was afraid to drop my shield. I was too thinned-skinned to face any more abuse from anyone. And so I hid for years and years behind an emotionally bullet-proof screen and a plastic, or generic, personality. No one really knew me, including me. I was even invisible to myself-- having spent a lifetime treating myself like I wasn‘t really there.

I can remember being in many social situations over the course of my life where I felt ignored and even thought to myself “What am I invisible, or something?” Still, I didn’t get it. I could be dying of thirst in a restaurant, and the server would be busy with everyone but me, the invisible man. The same was true at department stores, museums, parties and most all other social gatherings. Now I get it, and I’m better prepared to make myself and my needs visible. I count. Everyone does.

If we ever feel ignored or invisible around other people, it’s probably because we have been treating ourselves like we aren‘t “really there.” Let’s stop ignoring and start befriending ourselves. The better we come to know who we are, the less invisible we’ll be to us and everyone we care about.

Allow your soul to shine!