You Don’t Feel Invisible — You Feel Unnecessary
It’s not that no one sees you. It’s that you stopped seeing yourself. Time to change that.
This piece continues our 30-Day Reclamation Series—a journey of remembering who we are and why we don’t retire, we rewire. Paid subscribers get full access to the living practice behind these words: daily voice messages from me on Voxer, our intimate Zoom Circles, and real-time community conversations where we actually live what I write about. It’s soulful, it’s practical, and it costs less than your morning Starbucks.
The Gift of Not Being Needed
I used to think invisibility was about being ignored—
about walking into a room and realizing nobody saw me anymore.
Turns out, it’s not about being unseen at all.
It’s about not feeling necessary.
We say, “I feel invisible,” but what we really mean is:
I don’t feel wanted.
I don’t feel needed.
I don’t feel like my presence makes a dent anymore.
That ache? It’s not proof you’re fading.
It’s proof your soul is restless for new belonging.
For women like us—raised to be useful, to tend and to fix—not being needed can feel like being erased.
Our worth has lived for decades in the hands of others: our children, our partners, our bosses, our friends.
So when the noise quiets, and no one needs us to show up with answers or casseroles, it can feel like the air goes out of the room.
You’ve spent decades being the one who showed up. The glue. The giver. The dependable one.
Then suddenly, no one needs the glue anymore.
And here’s the trick: your soul starts whispering, Good. Finally.
Because it’s not that the world stopped seeing you.
It’s that you’re meant to start seeing yourself.
That’s what happened to me two days ago.
I’d built myself a beautiful cocoon day—the kind I use to realign and recharge—but sadness crept in anyway, sharp and uninvited.
I tried to ignore it.
Then I tried to feed it.
I made fudge. Then homemade French fries.
Every smell and sound carried me back to another time—sweet memories, but laced with ache.
And I realized: I had a choice.
I could host a pity party (I certainly had the snacks for it)
or I could treat this ache as an invitation.
Later that night, around 1 a.m., I woke up hearing it clearly—
a whisper from somewhere deep inside: “I need you.”
That wasn’t the world talking.
That was my soul.
That’s when I realized invisibility isn’t an ending.
It’s an opening.
It’s the moment your soul says, Finally, my turn.
The rest of this story is for women ready to turn invisibility into invitation.
Paid subscribers get the full series + my daily Voxer messages and Sunday Circles.
It’s soulful, practical, and cheaper than your Starbucks.