My very first blog post ever on Word Press was about feeling invisible. Here is the link to my first blog post, in case you would like to read it. The Cloak of Invisibility.
Feeling invisible is what brought me here. My first blog post’s contents held the pains and woes of fakebook (read:Facebook) land. I ended up not posting blogs here daily as I originally intended, due to life superceding that original intention for a while. But here again I found myself plagued by the feelings of invisibility spurred on by Facebook. And here I returned with a rekindled passion for posting. But this time, it is with a fervent need to heal myself from my 3 year depression and to feel heard and be seen properly for what feels like the first time in my life.
Facebook holds these unspoken rules in order to be seen and heard. And if you don’t follow them, you slowly become invisible and you become one of the unpopular status posters. You become one of the posters who has blog posts written about them because they break these unspoken rules and fall into one of the “10 most annoying status updates” type of articles. Not all of us can be the socially acceptable type. Facebook has started to feel like elementary-high school all over again. It feels like I must follow some social norms in order to be accepted.
NEWS FLASH: I spent my younger years trying so hard to fit the world’s mold, only to find out that I was unique, and to finally be proud of that. I found my birth parents which finally helped me understand my uniqueness and helped explain me to my own self. I am finally in a place where I flaunt my differences loud and proud. And I am not about to be taken down by social media just to revert back to feeling as though I must confirm to suit everyone else’s needs. I refuse to berate myself and feel as though there is something inherently wrong with me just because everyone else on Facebook follows the rules and posts things that are short and sweet, and sunshine and rainbows. Just because others don’t expose their heart on their sleeve in the manner that I do, I refuse to hide my heart. Just because others seem to have it all together, I will not believe that it reflects on my sense of togetherness, or seeming lack thereof. I will find my voice here, where people, complete strangers, come to read articles/blogs with substance and meaning, where strangers are not compelled to skip over a post simply because it does not fit concisely in to a 160 character format. Here, I will cease to feel invisible. Just this morning I received a very heart-warming comment on one of my blog posts, from a complete stranger. She relayed how much that post of mine made sense to her and related to her and reached her. She too seemed to have experienced a similar past as I had where, as she so aptly put it, “children were made to be seen and not heard.” Here, we have a voice, and we reach others who can relate to our voices. Here, our voices are not invisible.
I only find this above meme to be true here, and not on Facebook. I am having a hard time even finding this to be true in real life sometimes. But this is how I feel in the people I personally choose to associate with, and this is the standard by which I called those who choose to judge me. If people judge me harshly because they are simply looking for someone who hides their true self from the world because they choose to present an easier version to deal with that is only “positive”, then I have no desire to put on a fake version of myself simply to become a member of the sunshine club. I would much rather be invisible in the sunlight of the day. I will shine in the moonlight of the night time then. Even if that is when most of the world is asleep, there will still be some people who will be awake to find me there.
My feelings of invisibility are not something new to me. They did not start in adulthood. They did not even just start in school, where I didn’t meet the standards for the popular crowd. They started at home. They started because my adoptive parents could only see their own pain, and completely disregarded anything and everything that I was going through, as an Adoptee, as a child who was dealing with all of their dysfunction, as a child who had severe anxiety issues. None of this was recognized. My need for love was invisible. They only saw their own drive to fulfill their needs, and I was their pawn in their grand game of chess. Every child has an inherent need for love, and it is every parents job to fulfill that need for their child. That is the natural order and circle of life. My adoptive parents tried to reverse that circle. Not only was I a child in need of the typical love from parents, I was an Adoptee who was abandoned by her birthmom. And no matter what Kool-aid everyone feeds the world, even infants do know when they are abandoned. It is intrinsically and physiologically woven in to them, even when they are abandoned and adopted before they can speak. They do remember. It is like when a computer virus/worm is embedded so deep that it is able to infect the computer before the startup language even begins, and it completely fries the computer and renders it unusable. And yet, as a human being, I am expected to function at the same capacity as everyone else who did not experience this same pre-startup virus/trauma.
My adoptive parents only saw their needs to not feel betrayed, and drowned it in my head from the time they told me that I was adopted that it was hurt them very much if I were to ever try to search for my birth parents. They refused to acknowledge or recognize any of my needs or to inquire as to whether I felt incomplete. My own identity was invisible to them. They attempted to overwrite what was in my genetics and what felt natural to me with their own agendas and philosophies.
To this day, any time I have tried to express any hurt they have brought upon me, I am either met with being hung up on, complete silence, or a laughable “apology” that doesn’t even qualify as one, wherein my mother tells me that she is sorry that I feel that way. Never do they take responsibility for their actions, they always blame everything on me and act as if I am the bad seed and am the one riddled with all of the issues in life. And for the longest time they truly had me thinking that I was the damaged one, the one who didn’t deserve love. It took me far too long to realize the amount of dysfunction that I sprung from and survived, and how strong I am to not only have survived and functioned through all of it, but to be someone who is successful at what I do, despite the lack of psychological stability that I had.
I have worked invisibly, on my own, with no outside help of therapists to heal myself from all of my trauma. And this blog is another step towards my healing. And I thank all of those who read my posts for aiding me in becoming visible again.