I wrote a show pretty much from the pain that being invisible to the world I was born into caused me. And I’m not, I don’t have the skillset, or the sense of entitlement that comes with being seen so thoroughly as I currently am. I’ll get there. It feels nice on some levels, but it’s also very foreign and quite, I feel like it’s some discomfort with it. – Hannah Gadsby
The quote above is from Hannah Gadsby, speaking with Monica Lewinsky in a Vanity Fair interview about dealing with trauma in the public eye sparked by the well-deserved success of Gadsby’s incredibly insightful Nanette. (If you haven’t already, you should definitely watch Nanette and it’s worth sticking it out through some of Lewinsky’s awkwardness as an interviewer for the insights of both women during their discussion.)
I’ve been trying to write a response to this. I’ve written lots of words about how awful it was to feel invisible for so long. About how awful it’s been tor realise that it wasn’t just 22 years of a miserable, abusive marriage that made me feel that way, it was a lifetime of conditioning from my parents to believe that invisibility was all I deserved and attendance at churches where leaders used my faith to convince me that my unhappiness with my invisibility was my fault.
I’ll still write about that sometime.
For now, it simply comes down to the fact that Hannah’s comment ‘I don’t have the skillset, or the sense of entitlement that comes with being seen so thoroughly as I currently am.’ felt incredibly personal.
I want to be seen. I hated being invisible. I hated feeling disconnected and insignificant and unnecessary. I hated feeling generic and replaceable. But now that I’m being seen, I have absolutely no idea what to do.
I’m exhausted and confused by social interactions that I used to cope with so easily because I had very clear expectations about who I should be. It’s so much easier to follow a script. I’m frustrated that I have no clear sense of who I am, what I enjoy, or what goals I want for my life. I’ve spent too many years being what other people want me to be, prioritising what they enjoy, and directing my efforts into activities that minimised the chances of disapproval. I can’t remember who I am or what I like.
I struggle to find ways to prioritise myself or to even understand what that means. I try, and the mental and emotional backlash is significant. I don’t have the skillset to understand how to process other people prioritising me. The backlash from that is even worse. Kindness towards me makes me uncomfortable and, if I’m feeling particularly vulnerable, distresses me. Compliments confuse me. I am not equipped to process your unmerited kindness or your prioritising of my needs ahead of your own. I am not equipped to value my own opinion and thoughts and emotions and I cannot fathom that you would see value in them.
Being visible feels foreign and uncomfortable. And confusing. Too many years of allowing others to push me to the bottom of the list, too many years of deliberately placing myself there, too many years of dissociating myself from what was happening around me in order to cope.
Finally being seen makes me feel like a shadow – I’m here, but I lack substance and resilience. It’s so hard to work out how to push back against the habits of a lifetime. It’s not just a matter of redefining myself and starting over. I feel like I can’t even find the starting point.
And while all that is happening inside my head, all the never-ending loops of thoughts and emotions, I’m living my life because I have no choice. I don’t want to go back, so the only alternative is to move forward. I have awesome children who inspire me and challenge me to be a better person and a wonderful husband who is so patient with my confusion and brokenness and who loves me and values me even in those moments when I feel least visible and least able to cope with being seen.
I can do this. I am doing this. But being seen is so much harder than I ever imagined it would be.