I've spent most of my life invisible. Content to sit on the sidelines unnoticed. Comfortable in my quiet anonymity. Or I thought I was. Until it became apparent I was only attempting to conceal my inadequacies. But, it fed them instead, metastasizing like a cancer, eating me alive.
While I wish I could claim I'm cured, I'm not. Although I think it's in remission, mostly. Mostly when it doesn't matter if I'm seen or not. Because all that matters is the authenticity of what I'm doing. Like when I'm writing or dancing which I do solely to feed my soul.
I don't need to be seen.
But I'm not hiding either.
Although I still feel restricted by this invisible fence that surrounds me. Holding me back from so much more that I now know I'm both capable and deserving of. I also know I'm the one who installed the fence. So, I'm the only one who can disable it. If only I can crack the code. And free myself.
Hmm. You were very open and visible while writing about your family's experiences in Africa, both in the blog and in your book. Did you feel visible then? P.S. I used to dream about being invisible. In one dream my portrait was in a fancy frame high on a wall in some public place--but the picture turned out to be someone else. Don't know what changed my situation. Coulda been the therapy, coulda been the Zoloft.
ReplyDeleteInteresting. Yet you blog...and film yourself pole dancing...
ReplyDeleteI think I get you though. I know I do.