Can you see me?I am pretty sure I am here.Yet I am told that at my age, even earlier women become invisible.AND that we are supposed to care about that.I am told that it makes my life unhappy, miserable, and barely worth living. Am I odd because I don’t really notice it? I like going to the store in “lounge suits, aka pajamas. Unnoticed? That being invisible is invisible to me?
First, it isn’t totally true.Do I have trouble getting service? Not really. Of course, I was never one of those girls who attracted gaping stares, so maybe it’s easier for me.Regardless those days are past.
When I was 40 I climbed to the top of the Mexican Pyramid, Chicken Itza. 215 feet high and very steep and I was surprised at how easy it was to sprint up it.At the top, I looked around at the platform where they laid prisoners to cut out their hearts before tossing their bodies over the side, but not much else to see, I went to walk down.I looked down, realizing what a 215-foot almost shear drop looked like from up top. I looked back at the platforms and thought I could sleep there and beg for snacks from tourists.It was Mexico, how cold could it get at night? No kidding.That was my life plan from there on out.
I don’t know how long I stood there before a teen-aged boy and I noticed each other, both sensing our bond of terror and somehow, without discussing it we sat down on the top step, started talking to each other I don’t remember about what. Was it encouragement? Maybe. Using our bottoms, we got each other to the bottom safely.I don’t remember if we even said goodbye we were so happy to be on flat ground.If I had gotten along that well with teenage boys when I was in high school it would have been a very different experience!Every few years, I think of him, and I have no idea if he remembers me at all, but since I only picture a long, skinny shadow, I guess he was invisible to me in a way.
Fast-forward 30 years, and I am told I have become even more invisible. I am supposed to care, to be upset about that.
One day, while at Ridgewood Shopping Center, walking away from Whole Foods, I was, for some reason, hugging the curb. Not that I needed to, as that sidewalk is very wide with plenty of room, and no one else was there.
I notice 5 teenage boys walking toward me, in tandem, taking up the whole damned sidewalk.I quickly realized that I had four choices, 1.Keep walking, and when they approach, step into the gutter.2.Stop walking and step into the gutter.3.Get mad and give them a piece of my mind, making them see me.4. Keep walking at my normal pace while ‘standing my ground’ on the curb. Let the chips fall where they may.
I decided on the 4th, having no idea what would happen. I accepted that I had no control over what my choice would bring. I chose the one that would not make me unhappy and over which I had control.
I kept walking as they continued to be oblivious to my presence, my approach, I truly was invisible to them.I searched my brain to see if I had some other agenda. Was I trying to prove something to them?I didn’t think so.
I kept walking on the curb as I was doing before I saw them.
WHAM BANG. I felt the pain in my shoulder, the boy on the end, and I had crashed hard.I kept my pace, not looking back, but peripherally I could see him rubbing his shoulder (which I wanted to do, but didn’t) and the other boys looking around in confusion.
They didn’t see me smile as I continued at my pace.I don’t even know that I registered with them at all, but what was important was that it didn’t matter to me.I didn’t need them to “see me”. I needed to not step into the gutter.
I had decided on a course, I stayed the course, and I didn’t worry about things that I couldn’t control
- I didn’t let the scene get me angry.That was something I could control.I controlled it by knowing who I was and what I could and couldn’t do.
2.I didn’t think I had “taught them a lesson.” Maybe I did, but it was doubtful. It didn’t matter. Someday, they might become better people, but that wasn’t up to me, and I wasn’t going to make myself unhappy by pretending that I could control that.
3.I knew my goal, and it was based on what I wanted, and I knew I could control it.
Every few years, I fondly remember that boy back in Mexico. It doesn’t matter if he remembers me or not, although it’s nice to think that that brief and so important connection still lives with him. One of the boys in Raleigh might have been capable of that kind of collaboration had he been cut from the herd in which they traveled at the strip mall.
I kept myself in that moment both times.I knew what I needed and what I could control. And more importantly, what I couldn’t.
That is the secret.Oh, yes, I am not invisible and don’t need anyone else to confirm that. You don’t disappear when you get old.Some people may start overlooking you, occasionally, but the most important thing is that you don’t become invisible to yourself, that you are there for opportunities to relate when you may need it on, say, Aztec ruins, and that you don’t step off the curb and into the gutter because other people didn’t see you.