When did I become invisible?

The chauffeur who dutifully gets people where they need to go.

The waitress who brings food to the table every night.

The laundress who magically makes clean clothes appear.

The wife who will always be there.

The professional who keeps running despite long ago losing the lead.

The friend who will forgive how long it’s been.

Did I drop out or am I just too reliable to merit attention?  I think it’s the latter. I’m so f’ing dependable, it sucks. No wonder I feel like getting in my car and just driving where my foot and gas pedal take me.  No wonder I toy with sitting in the bar of whatever hotel I’m at for business and letting someone hit on me.  Then again, if I found I was invisible there too, I don’t think I could handle the implications!

As I write this, it makes sense to me why I can be nasty and pick fights. It’s the only way to get heard!

I hate middle school.

I am saddened by adult friendships.

I resent that marriage can become transactional. (all about the check list!)

I am boggled by how much I have to do.

And then, I see my family of five gathered at our kitchen table, and despite three complaints about the food, two petty arguments between children and one husband who can stare into space and then claim he’s not thinking about anything, I understand why I do what I do.  This creation, my family, that exists because I do, is the dearest thing to me.  There is nothing as dear to me.  It is the extension of me that is not invisible.  They are all the proof that I exist.

Happy Mother’s Day to all the invisible (and visible) women out there.

PS. Please, no coaching or advice.  It is my pleasure to explore the duality of life and my conundrum as to why I feel the need to share it publicly.