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I find solace in going unnoticed sometimes. It’s not always a bad thing, even though we’re often taught that being seen is the goal. There are moments when blending into the background feels more like a relief than a loss.
For me, it shows up in ordinary ways. Like walking through the grocery store and suddenly spotting someone I know down one of the aisles. My heart immediately jumps with anxiety. Should I make eye contact? Do I just turn around? Can I somehow disappear behind the display of candy? More often than not, I choose the quiet escape. I look away, pretend to be deeply invested in choosing pasta sauce, or take a different route altogether. It’s almost like I believe I have the power of invisibility.
Sometimes, though, invisibility isn’t possible. There was a time I ran into my uncle while shopping at a market. I spotted him the moment I walked in, and instantly our eyes met. I was looking like a mess—practically in my pajamas, hair wrapped in a bun, and no makeup on. My heart was racing the whole time because all I wanted to do was escape. I felt uncomfortable with my appearance, with how I was already feeling, and nervous that my end of the conversation wouldn’t flow as it should. I always feel awkward in these situations, and sometimes my expressions say it all—I truthfully cannot lie verbally or outwardly. I’m sure my uncle could probably tell I wasn’t in the mood to chat. Still, I masked through that conversation like a champ.
It’s usually not personal. I just lack the energy or courage for small talk in that moment—the polite smiles, the rushed life updates, the “we should catch up sometime” that rarely turns into anything. Sometimes my energy is already spent, and the idea of conversation—even a brief one—feels heavier than it should.
I didn’t always know why I preferred invisibility. Growing up, I often felt awkward in social situations. I’d see classmates effortlessly making friends, joining extracurriculars, and excelling in ways I struggled with. I wanted to participate, but the constant social battery drain left me exhausted. I didn’t realize then that choosing to rest was actually me taking care of myself.
There was also a time I was at a small party with a group of friends. I wasn’t in the mood for that type of socialization. But I didn’t want to leave because I wanted to be around others. I just wanted to stay silent, but I mingled a little, then stepped outside for some alone time—without feeling guilty about it. That small break reminded me that setting boundaries doesn’t mean I’m anti-social.
Going unnoticed can sometimes feel pleasant. There are times I just want to sit quietly in the presence of others. I don’t always have the energy to talk or be lively just for the sake of it. Sometimes I want to observe, notice the world around me, and exist without performing or explaining myself. That’s exactly how I approached that party.
Being unseen isn’t always about hiding. It’s about resting, giving yourself permission to be quiet without obligation, and protecting your energy. For so long, I thought being invisible meant being insignificant—that if I wasn’t seen, I didn’t matter. But I’m learning that going unnoticed can be necessary for your well-being. It can be a form of care and a boundary you are allowed to set.
Sometimes there is beauty in choosing stillness, in flying under the radar, and in letting yourself exist without masking. And sometimes, that quiet invisibility is exactly what keeps you whole.
When have you chosen to step back or go unnoticed, and how did it affect your energy or well-being?
“Sometimes being unseen is the kindest thing you can do for yourself.”
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