Where am I? Who am I?

 

 

                                                             Where am I?

It is easy to be invisible.

These words occurred to me on a day when my head hurt so badly that I could barely speak or socialize with the family gathered on Christmas Day.

 

If I sat quietly and did not say anything, I could disappear into the noise of my gregarious and outgoing Irish family.  I realized that I frequently do just that.

This not-so-unique idea extended to others like me.  People who suffer from silent, not obvious illnesses and pain become invisible, just as I do. 

Fibromyalgia?  Oh, what’s that?  The invisibility curtain drops.

 

CFS? Chronic Fatigue Syndrome?  Oh, I think I heard about that 20 years ago.  Down comes the curtain.

 

RA?  Rheumatoid Arthritis? Say, what?  Isn't the same as normal arthritis?

 

Depression? When those dark clouds can't be seen? Ignore it, you are fine.

 

Bi-polar? No one knows someone who is bi-polar. Oh, there was some strange man in the store.

 

Alcoholism?  You're in AA? Good for you. 
 

Addiction to what? A lot of people have addictions of some sort. My aunt says she is addicted to chocolate.

 

It is so easy, so very easy, to hear these words.  However, because the person speaking them looks “just fine”, it is amazingly easy to shuttle them aside.

 

 

I once suffered a serious injury in which the tendons of my right elbow were almost torn from the bone.  I was told by the doctor that it would have been much better if I had simply broken the elbow. 

The problem with no cast or obvious scars, no one realized how serious the injury was.  I looked “just fine”, even though in constant pain. 

It is easy to become invisible.  Just ask anyone.

 

To be seen, but not to be heard

1997 What the Deaf Man Heard

When my father finally admitted that he needed a hearing aid, we sighed with relief. Decades of handling farm equipment had damaged his hearing as it had to all the other farmers his age.  We tired of repeating and dealing with his frustration, and I am guessing other families did as well.

We made some assumptions just how much he could hear with his new hearing aids. They weren’t 100% and has a tired old acronym: to assume makes an ass of you and me.

That is what we did, thinking we could talk in the kitchen and he would not hear what we said from the living room. We discovered this early on, which was fortunate.

 YouTube: 10 min. "Making of Deaf Man

In a 1997 Hallmark Hall of Fame movie, What the Deaf Man Heard**, Sammy (played by Matthew Modine) is left on a bus when his mother is murdered. She had always and repeatedly warned him to “keep quiet”, which Sammy took to the extreme. The bus station manager and wife informally adopt him, believing him to be deaf and mute.

As Sammy feigns being deaf and mute, the small community grows to accept it and he becomes invisible to them. He shows talent as a gardener, leading him to be involved in the lives of the elite. Over 20 years, Sammy uses this as a shield and learns a heck of a lot of secrets.

Therein lies the whole purpose of this blog: 

What would you do? Could you be like 

Sammy for 20 years? Could you be invisible? Do you know people who fit in this category?

**Cast: Matthew Modine, Claire Bloom, Judith Ivey, James Earl Jones,  Tom Skerritt, Frankie Muniz, Bernadette Peters

The above YouTube clip is about the making of the movie. It is 10 minutes long, but shows much about the challenges of the south in post WW2, discrimination, treatment of people with disabilities, class structures, etc.

  Worth watching in parts

Time to pass it on...

When paintings on the walls

Blur and disappear,

It is time

To pass them on,

To New Eyes,

Who will

Experience

Joy and wonder

Once felt

By those who give.

source

With Lightning Speed

I was on a long-weekend trip with my husband to Idyllwild, California.  The mountain air was brisk; there was the promise of snow in the air.

We wore coats because it was cold and we needed them.  Those coats were so thrilled to be let out into daylight; lingering in a closet must be depressing to a coat meant to shield one from rain, or buffer away the cold wind.

We did our best to support the mountain economy, buying mugs and gifts for our granddaughters.  Anything with a red cardinal on it was in my hands and at the cash register in lightning speed.

It was in the Mountain of Books store that I found a book by Alice Hoffman, The Ice Queen.

Recently, one of my posts dealt with the issue of being invisible.  The M/C narrator (never ever given a name) in this book survives by her ‘invisibility’.   Then she is struck by lightning.  Instead of killing her, this electric life-changing event sends her in a different life direction.

The “Tuesday Teaser” is this:

Are people drawn to each other because of the stories they carry inside?  At the library I couldn’t help but notice which patrons checked out the same books.  They appeared to have nothing in common, but who could tell what a person was truly made of?  The unknown, the riddle, the deepest truth.

Reading the narrator’s journey left me wondering about this being-invisible status so many of us share.  It made me resolve to break through the shields of the invisible. 

What You Don't See Is...

Courtesy of Bing.com

It is easy to be invisible.

These words occurred to me on a day when my head hurt so badly that I could barely speak or socialize with the family gathered on Christmas Day.

If I sat quietly and did not say anything, I could disappear into the noise of my gregarious and outgoing Irish family.  I realized that I frequently do just that.

This not-so-unique idea extended to others like me.  People who suffer from silent, not obvious illnesses become invisible, just as I do. 

Fibromyalgia?  Oh, what’s that?  The invisibility curtain drops.

CFS? Chronic Fatigue Syndrome?  Oh, I think I heard about that 20 years ago.  Down comes the curtain.

RA?  Rheumatoid Arthritis?

Depression?

Bi-polar? 

Alcoholism?  You're in AA?
Addiction to what?

It is so easy, so very easy, to hear these words.  However, because the person speaking them looks “just fine”, it is amazingly easy to shuttle them aside.

I once suffered a serious injury in which the tendons of my right elbow were almost torn from the bone.  I was told by the doctor that it would have been much better if I had simply broken the elbow. 

The problem with no cast or obvious scars, no one realized how serious the injury was.  I looked “just fine”, even though in constant pain. 

It is easy to become invisible.  Just ask anyone.