If I can't be beautiful, I want to be invisible

If I can't be beautiful, I want to be invisible wrote Chuck Palahniuk. I would mend the quote and write: If I can't be heard, loved, appreciated and respected, I want to be invisible. Just like the kid who covers his face and thinks the whole world cannot see him. Just like wearing coloured glasses and believing the world to have turned another hue. I guess being a mix of a control freak and a bit of a mama bear I do tend to try and make everyone happy but do it all wrong and then feel all upset when someone says something totally logical but that becomes hurtful in the context. So it is time for inventing coping strategies that would be workable and not rock the boat. Hiding in my den and resorting to my no fail catharsis: writing. Does not seem to do the trick so it was time to resort to the big guns. At first I did not quite know what the best option(s) would be till I had an epiphany! To become invisible to others I should simply become visible to myself and spend quality time with me. But there was a problem. The recluse cloak needed to be taken off at least for some time. No easy task but had to be tried just like the golden rule my daughter has for my son: try it once and if you do not like it then do not eat/do etc it! I guess I could at least do what a 5 year old accepted to do.

I signed up for Pilates classes. Thankfully they are held at a short walking distance. The big question was to get myself to accept being in a class with others whom I knew would be years younger than me. Normally I like exercising alone or at best with a trainer. But I did make the effort to go and sign up and found myself with a group of young mothers and a very nice trainer. The first class was a bit awkward I must admit but soon I got into the groove and am proud to say that I am as good as most of them and even more flexible than some! I now look forward to the three mornings when the classes are held and feel good. That was step one in my visibility to myself programme.

Step two was even bolder. Signing up for swimming classes. Now the lady cannot have a private pool so there was not only the fact of having others around but of getting in front of them in a swimsuit with all the sixty two years old battle scars: flabby skin et al! Here it was again my first born who pushed me to come once, and then the next step were easier. Once the stage fright of swimsuit appearance dealt with it was getting in the pool with my trainer and his other pupils most of them closer to my grandson's age than mine. I remember the first day when the young trainer asked me to make bubbles next to a frightened little girl. I did my best. Thankfully the next lesson was with an older trainer whom I felt more comfortable with. Now I can swim lengths on my own and even keep my head under water. We are still at the breast stroke and there is a long way to go but you cannot imagine how good I feel when I am in the water and swimming. This certainly was a giant leap in my visibility to myself journey.

What happens next is any one's guess. If things fall in place I may just retreat into my comfort zone and go back to being a recluse. On the other hand if I like this visibility trip then who knows I may learn to drive, travel beyond a radius of 3 km from my house or even get over my fear of packing a bag and walking out of the gate of my house for more than the usual hour of so. Only time will tell.