Courage to be seen
and the possibility of becoming invisible
It irks me to read that women after a certain age become invisible. Whether it’s a trend and this topic shows up more often or I am noticing this more because of my age or algorithmic magic regularly feeds it to me in any case it crawls under my skin.
I sometimes observe my hands and turn them in front of me and wonder whether I detect some signs of becoming invisible, the skin thinning and becoming translucent. I am surprised how much the wrinkled skin and blue veins resemble my mom’s hands and grandma’s hands as I remember them. With these hands I can hold a book and the fingers turn the pages, or hold a pen and let the words spill onto the pages of the journal. I pinch myself. I exist. My fingers are skinny and hands small, unlike the rest of my body that’s rather substantial, taking up space in the living room and filling the clothes I have chosen for the day. This too is a sign that I exist. Can someone who takes up space and feels pain when pinched still be invisible, if no one sees or hear them or reads their words. Or does invisibility happen after crumbling like a sandcastle, melting like a snow or evaporating like water?
While I was wondering about the invisibility, a podcast episode (in Estonian), where I was a guest, was published yesterday. This might have been the timing of the universe to get me out of the unhelpful thoughts and melancholy mood. The title of the podcast was “Courage to be Seen”.
I fill 20 minutes with my stories, bits of wisdom of what it means to be seen, speaking of my presence and writing on LinkedIn. The episode was recorded in September. In the end of January, I felt like an imposter. Hibernating and hiding, I hadn’t posted anything in more than a month. I had forgotten what I spoke about. Reading the summary of the episode I kind of liked what I read.
I speak about overcoming the beliefs that were instilled in me as a child. Many of us were taught that modesty is a virtue. We heard don’t stand out, standing out is arrogant and vain, so it’s better to be hidden. Now I have learned that sharing isn’t just talking about myself, but it’s creating connection. I’ve also learned no to be so afraid about other’s opinions, knowing that people don’t think so much about us because they have themselves to think about. If you don’t show to people who you are, they wouldn’t know what you have to offer. When you do show yourself, you can inspire others. It’s probably part of maturity, accepting oneself not trying to be like someone else, but being you, and knowing that this is enough.
Encouraged by the episode coming out, I returned to LinkedIn, shared the podcast and was all ready to be visible and bask in the spotlight, like a rock star. Or a queen. The universe surely likes to play tricks. The lesson about vanity still applies and to pull me back to reality, to do a humbling check, the post was visible to few, less than ten people liked it and only one person listened and commented.
Sending the episode to three friends directly, I waited for their responses. Their sweet responses soothed the wounded pride. Their comments shifted my thoughts about the courage to be seen.
It takes courage to put oneself out there, but it takes equal courage to see yourself, to look within and discover the flame that burns inside and then daring to let it shine. I think the most special thing is not so much for the strangers to see the light, see you, but it’s the moment when you’re in real life presence with someone and feel fully seen, fully heard and fully accepted.
I’ll keep offering my words here and on LinkedIn, hoping they brings a bit light and colour to other people’s lives. And I hope to create many moments in real life when people feel comfortable to share their inner world and I can nudge them to share their light and have courage to be seen.
I especially hope to hear more and more stories of women over fifty, sixty, seventy, eighty. They have experience, power and wisdom and should be visible in the society, in media. And not only be seen, but heard, valued and celebrated.
Art by Tiina Ojaste:
Wonderful and true writing. I am now of ‘an age’ that is unseen by many. In a way, I find it comforting to be able to flow through life without the hassle. But in a group I was in, where I was new to them and unknown, it was assumed that I was also new at what they were doing: art and clay. I’m not. I’ve been making and showing and selling my work for decades and they, in fact, are new to all of that. But I kept quiet. I am uncomfortable with ‘bragging’. I did let a little of myself out recently when a gallery I’d been in was mentioned and I nodded and said, I’d been there years ago. There was a brief silence. Then the meeting went on. Even sharing this here is different for me. So thanks for listening.
Thank you for writing this. I felt this mostly in my sport of triathlon and made an effort to be seen. I’m glad it’s slowly changing with many athletes 50+ sharing on SM. The thing about this age is we know better and get to choose too. Winter is a good time to hibernate, reflect and recover. I feel more and more the need for stillness and solitude but yet finding the balance to share just enough. I really miss my camino days, a year ago walking. Trying to recreate that stillness at home is proving hard but not impossible. The Unspeakable World by Adi Goldstein explains quite well my needs now.