An Invisible Woman

When I came up with the concept for this blog, the title Notes from an Invisible Woman felt right because for most of my marriage, my ex-husband made me feel invisible. I felt like who I was as a person, the things that made me uniquely me – my thoughts, opinions, feelings – had no value, because they were overlooked, denied or (most often) simply ignored unless they were consistent with who he wanted me to be. If I did or said anything that fell outside his definition of a Good Christian Wife and Mother, then it was as if those things had never happened.

It wasn’t just my ex-husband. The same attitude was evident in many of my friends. I seemed to surround myself with people who confirmed that I was loved and valued most when I stayed within the boundaries of their expectations. Who I was as an individual never mattered. My connection with these people was a form of unconscious self-sabotage. When I approached these friends for support, their response was always that I should find contentment in my situation, reflect on how much I had to be grateful for, and/or try harder to focus on supporting and encouraging others in order to be less self-focused and selfish (because apparently being unbearably sad and ‘allowing’ yourself to feel disconnected and unloved is self-indulgent).

My husband, and many of my closest friends, made me feel invisible.

By now, almost twelve months after the separation, I expected to feel less invisible. I thought leaving my ex-husband would release me to be myself again. That I would no longer have to filter every word, thought and action to make sure they were appropriate. In some ways this is true. It’s been a struggle, but I’ve stepped away from most of the toxic relationships in my life (both friends and family). I’m gradually realising that I’m allowed to be happy; that it’s okay to prioritise my feelings. I’m very, very slowly learning to not feel guilty every time I feel sad or prioritise my own wellbeing instead of satisfying the expectations of others.

But I still feel invisible. Or perhaps it would be more accurate to say I feel insubstantial.

I’ve spent so long suppressing myself and trying to comply with the expectations of others that I feel like I don’t even know who I am anymore. I’ve spent so long watching life from the sidelines, I’m not sure if I even know how to participate and engage with life outside my everyday routine.

I feel like I never have the time or energy to engage in serious conversations, even though I’m desperate to be part of discussions and debate about a wide variety of topics. I feel like I’ve spent so long focused on simply surviving, that I’ve lost track of what is happening in the world. I feel like I simply don’t have the background knowledge to make a meaningful contribution when serious discussions start, so I once again take a step back and watch others exchange ideas while I feel silly and ignorant and useless on the sidelines.

I know there is an element of self-pity in what I’m feeling, but sometimes it really does simply feel too hard. Meeting new people, staying up-to-date with news, current affairs and pop culture, and finding time to read articles about social issues – finding time to read ANYTHING meaningful – seems like far more than I’m capable of achieving.

I want to reconnect with the world. I want to feel like I have something significant to contribute. I want to learn new things, meet new people, debate, discuss and have my perspective challenged. I want to be drawn into conversations where the mess of my personal life doesn’t matter. I want to contribute without feeling like I need to brace myself for the reminder that my opinions are unwanted and unnecessary.

Very early in my separation, when my ex-husband was trying to convince me that we should stay together, I mentioned that I didn’t understand his enthusiasm for our relationship given he’d never really liked who I was. He didn’t like that I was opinionated or outspoken. He didn’t agree with my politics or my need to discuss social issues. He didn’t like the kinds of people I felt most drawn to – people who challenged ideas and didn’t fit inside the square. I spent so many years trying to be less than what I was so he wouldn’t feel uncomfortable, but it was never enough. When I said ‘You never really liked me and who I was’ he replied with ‘You’re right. I didn’t. But I’m okay with it now’ and I felt the invisibility descend on me again.

Twelve months on, I’m still fighting to not feel invisible. I have some wonderful people in my life who love me and accept me as I am, but my instinctive response is always to assume that I don’t have anything meaningful to contribute. I always assume that I’m to blame. That I’m talking too much, too loudly, too confidently. That my opinions are unwanted and uninteresting. That I should be content with having a seat on the sidelines.

It probably doesn’t seem like much – an anonymous blog with (too long) posts about the jumble of thoughts and ideas in my head. It isn’t much, I guess. A very, very tiny corner of the internet that won’t be noticed by many. But after so many years of feeling invisible, posting here feels like stepping into the daylight and letting myself be seen. It’s liberating and terrifying at the same time.

But it’s time to stop being invisible.