Painfully visible in a small, big world
More than anything I miss feeling invisible while out in the world. As in, walking down the street and disappearing into the crowd. It's been more than a decade in this hot, painful country, and I still wrestle with the loss of that solitude. On this side of the world, where else have I felt it? I can't recall. Maybe in Thailand, while on a weeklong work trip. Brief flashes of it in Bali. Where else?
We live now in a time where going out means you might become a background character in someone else's reel. A weird dance move? Asleep in a quiet cafe? The emissary of a joke that falls and sprains its ankle? Any minor social ineptitude could incur a severe dunking-upon for a fortnight, if not twice that. It's not just me, I know it; we're all hyper-aware that we're being monitored and continually observed; it's why we talk constantly about "being perceived", joke about vanishing, and create a second or even a third or fourth finsta account.
Dunbar's number, anyone?
Existing in this manner frustrates me to no end, but I also know complaining about it won't do me any good. Just this morning I saw a tweet remarking that there are many such cases of "recreationally miserable" folks who seem to be always nursing a feeling of guilt while also perpetually feeling they are the victim of circumstance; basically, a notch above learned helplessness. I don't want to do that! I don't want to be that kind of person.
So, yes, I struggle with this feeling. What can I do about it?
I can learn to face what makes me afraid. I can with my hands scrape out a space in this wide world. I can forgive the past lives I've lived for knowing so little. I can take resolve, knowing that being known is the cost of all the joys of living. I can try again knowing that the right people will not run away but towards me.
I fight against misery. I choose to be hopeful for myself and others.