On Invisibility & Responsibility

Apologies for the very late Sanguine Saturday post -- I wanted to complete this one first, and it has taken me this long to get it done.

Over the past little while I've been exploring the concept of invisiblity (in the symbolic, rather than literal, sense). What is it that makes some people more visible than others; and how much of that belongs on which side of the equation?

For myself, I've felt fairly unwelcome and invisible in several layers of my life recently. I suppose unwelcome isn't necessarily the right word, but certainly invisible is accurate. I've had times where I've wondered if I actually even still exist; if I dreamed my half of a conversation or if perhaps I simply forgot to say what I thought I'd said.

At first I told myself I was being silly. I told myself I was blowing things out of proportion and overreacting. I had, afterall, just come back after a bit of time away -- and before I went away, I often felt unwanted (possibly due to things in my own head). However as time went on, I began to speak about it a little with one or two other people -- people who had noticed the ways I had seemingly faded, and gave me confirmation that it wasn't all in my head.

Reassured that this wasn't entirely a case of borderline 'paranoia' or personal misconception due to insecurity etc, I began to explore why it might be so. What is it that I am doing that is leading to this response? IS it something I'm doing? I asked a few people in a general sort of way and I gave thought to their responses, however as they were responding in general terms (my own fault, as I'd asked in that capacity!) it was difficult to see what to apply to my situation and what not to.

Many theories have bounced around inside my head. Some combine both parties; others are concerned mainly with others' impressions/beliefs about me or focus on my failings. None of them have made me happier or bought me closer to a resolution. I wanted to talk to the people concerned directly, particularly the ones who matter most to me, but it's not the sort of thing I want to bring up in a Facebook message, and I haven't managed to catch them when I've been around online in order to really speak about it -- especially since I'd rather speak to as many people at once than deal with going through it individually.

Instead, I continue to theorise, to remind myself that there are people who do consistently choose to have me in their lives (in whatever capacity is possible at the moment) and to remind myself that these people wouldn't make that choice if I were fundamentally flawed to such a degree that I am not worthy of any friendship/caring/love.

And so... I bring this to you, dear blog friends. Have you ever felt this way? If you did, how did you handle the situation? How did other people respond to your management of same? And/or, what do you think makes some people more invisible than others and how much of the 'blame'/'responsibility' for that lies where?

Why "White Lies" Aren't/Balancing Honesty & Protection Of Feelings

I used to be diplomatic, tactful, considerate. I would like to say I'm still those things, but it's become more important than ever before to me to be, above all else, honest. Now, don't get me wrong. Honesty has always been important to me - I just never before understood how damaging a 'white lie' could be.

Today I was asked if I considered a particular person a friend. Now, I don't know this person well. We do not have heart-to-heart conversations. I don't know what makes her tick any more than she knows what makes me tick. I do not know her favourite colour, what sort of food she likes to eat, or how she feels about ice cream. I do not know that when I am hurting, I can go to her and ask for comfort, or seek laughter or advice that is given knowing my situation and with my best interests at heart. She has never given me any indication to make me believe that she would consider me a friend.

In all honesty, I don't know her well enough to count her as a friend, and so I considered my options before replying. In the past, I would have immediately responded "of course you're my friend" so that I didn't hurt their feelings, and I'm sure there are people out there thinking that that is exactly what I should have said now, too. I didn't. I gave it thought and eventually I went with what amounted to "I don't know you well enough to consider you a friend, but you are someone I am interested in getting to know further".

I didn't feel that it was too horrible a thing to say, but it lead to an amount of uproar. I'm still confused. I recognise that there is a balance between being honest and being hurtful, but I cannot for the life of me seem to find it. Contrary to what seems to be public opinion of me these days, I have no desire to hurt anyone.

In fact, not wanting to hurt others is part of the reason honesty is so important to me at the moment. As I journey into my own recovery, I am beginning to recognise all the ways "white lies" have damaged my relationships and my self, and most specifically, my ability to trust -- not just you, but my ability to trust myself.

If I dress in a skirt that looks hideous on me and I ask you what you think, chances are that I suspect it may not be the most flattering piece of clothing I've ever tried. If you go on to tell me it looks fabulous, I learn to doubt my "intuition" that the skirt doesn't look good. Later, someone else may tell me how hideous it looks, and that opens the door to doubting your motives, your friendship, whether I should trust you in future. And even if I decide not to trust you in future, that initial seed of doubt in myself will still be there.

Trust is incredibly important to me. It's not something I've ever been able to have much control over in the past, but I'm learning. And one of the things I've learned about myself is that my ability to trust is tempered by the amount of times someone's lied to me.

White lies are damaging because they are lies and lies are an abuse of trust.

So, my purpose in writing this is twofold. One, to remind myself of why honesty is so important to me, and two, to ask how you balance honesty and protection of other peoples' feelings. Is there a line? I don't need you to agree with my P.O.V., but if you're going to offer criticism I do ask that you be constructive. "I think your way is hurtful. Next time you could try x" is helpful, "your way is mean" is not. I want very much to figure this out, for years I have prided myself on my interpersonal skills (despite my seeming inability to keep friends) and this struggle to find balance and keep people happy now that I'm actually expressing some apparently unpopular opinions is very upsetting to me.

Take care of yourselves until next time, and may we all find our own small fences along the way.