You know, Kevin, I get what you're saying. I spent a huge part of my life trying to be the invisible girl, both for the freedom of it and because I thought it was what I'd earned. After I left Paul I was shocked - completely shocked - to find that a bunch of the people I'd met through him and while with him were actually really good friends and liked me because of me rather than because of us or him. I had been convinced that I would end out thoroughly alone when/if I ever left, that it was what I'd earned and deserved, and it was scary as hell. I feel like a fake pretty much of the time. Oh, don't get me wrong, I'd hear people tell me I was this or that, but I never saw it, myself, and so I thought they were just being polite. It took nearly 40 years, but I finally decided I'd act like I believed it was true and see what happened. What happened was I just started to enjoy it. Well, that and I think I ended out with the single most awesome group of friends a girl ever had. In the end, though the best I can do is the best I can do. I realized then that what I was faking and failing were internal, self-set goals and ideals, rather than the ones imposed upon me by society. Society didn't expect me to be the Goddess incarnate, they just thought I was good at the things I did well. *shrugs*
Being me, I overanalyzed the shit out of it. I kind of decided that when we're young, we're told these light-hearted fairy tales about princes and princesses, and about being able to do anything we want when we grow up. It turns out that the fairy tales are intended for children and so don't mention the work, luck, birthright and/or natural talent that need to align with the intended goal. Within my father's age group, everyone seemed to know "a guy" who was THE person to see if you needed ...whatever. This was how he and his friends communicated. If your transmission went out, you had to go see Fred. Gutters? See Bob. Etc. I think it was sort of old-fashioned networking in retrospect, but within me, it combined with the excess of the 80's, and the popular language of the 80's, to symbolize a need to be the best at something -- a wonderwoman at something...or everything. I think what it meant to my father was that Fred and Bob were talented at what they did, and he trusted and liked them. I missed the connection, and since I am clearly not wonderwoman, I felt a failure.
When I finally made the connection, I turned in my bullet-proof bracelets and gave the plane nobody could see to the government (
). I kept the magic lasso 'cause it was fun. I started trying to just be a regular person who accepted compliments and believed them within the framework that they were given. It was very relaxing, frankly. I've had my Forrest Gump moments where I met or got to know people, or do things, or go places that there's no reasonable reason that little nobody me should ever have gotten to meet or know or do or see. Dumb luck? Whatever. It happened. It's still true. And if I hadn't lived my life the way I did and made the choices, mistakes and all, that I did, it likely would not have happened to me. Not that I brag, though, I'm not feeling that secure.
It's not perfect. I still feel like I'm seen differently than I feel, but I try to remember that one man's garbage is another man's treasure, and move on.
Interestingly enough, I had almost this exact same conversation with my Stepson about a week and a half ago. He tends to feel the same way, basically. He gets told he's special and he doesn't feel it. He knows in his head that he's worked hard and he sees how hard his coworkers and friends work or don't at whatever they're doing, but he still doesn't measure up in his head to where others see him. It was almost the same background for him that it was for me - he was also kind of in the shadow of others he percieved to be incredible, at least with one thing - his dad not the least of them. He reminded me that sometimes grownups can seem superhuman when you're a kid, as well. You never know what grampa gave to dad, and all that. He also perceived his current position in life to be relatively Gumptacular. And, in the end, he's also decided to just kind of go with it. It is what it is, you know?
Oh, and for the record, you're not forgettable.