If I disappeared, no one would notice; at least for a while, perhaps longer. They would notice things like no dinners made, no laundry washed, no house cleaned. They would notice things like cupboards bare, perhaps a bit more mess around the place. But they would not notice me gone; not until there was no food in the press, no clean clothes in the wardrobes and no towels picked off the bathroom floor. Things that they ‘needed’ from me.
My absence on facebook would go unobserved, undetected. The house, (my house) would be no less quiet than it is now, even though my voice would be gone. My voice has been gone for a while. I didn’t speak, except to answer questions asked of me for three days; and no one noticed. No one wondered where was my smile, no-one talked ‘to’ me – just at me, telling me of their busy days while mine is so empty, unfilled; devoid of hope, bereft of happiness.
My gmail would be filled with spam, unsolicited mail, but no correspondence of any worth or real meaning. My days are empty, except to do things for other people, my family; my husband, my children! But what if I were gone? What would be missed? The things that some stranger can come in and do – that is what would be missed most of all. The mundane housework, laundry and cooking that sucks the very life out of you if that is all you have to do!
If I were to disappear, what would happen to me? My children regularly say ‘I love you’, but it is almost like a muscle memory. They ask for things and finish by saying ‘I love you’, or they get their favourite dinner and say ‘oh, by the way I love you’. Were I in a better place, I would wonder at the casualness of that statement, the beauty in it, the sentiment behind it and I would rejoice that I have a beautiful family; were I in a better place.
My life holds no meaning at the moment. My days are empty, I feel as if I am a shell of myself, of who I once was. Conversation is hard, I am hard work. I had some really good friends, but I think my illness, my reticence sometimes has left me out in the cold with them. I am the one who chases up get togethers, I am the one who would push for meals out, and when I don’t do it, they don’t contact me, except to ‘like’ something I’ve put up on facebook, but that’s not contact. That’s not meaningful. There have been times when my comments about depression have prompted a “don’t you know I am there for you” response. But they aren’t. I am out in the cold. People give out about facebook and how it has stunted the real art of personal communication, but for me, at the moment, it is one of my only outlets; that spying on others pages, that leaving the occasional ‘like’ or comment on someone else’s busy life up there on the web for all to see. But it also makes me realize how empty and lonely my life has become. How utterly useless and alone I feel.
I’ve often wondered at the families of people who have taken their own life and the sentiment they express; “I didn’t notice anything, I didn’t see their depression”. I often wondered how that could be so – that you don’t see someone elses pain and suffering, when its right there in front of you day after day. But I know now, I will never wonder at that again… I am in pain, I am suffering and yet, I am not seen.
I am not seen.
Would my loss mean anything to others?
My loss would mean something, an interruption to daily life for a while, but I am replaceable. I am a shell, I am not seen.. I am invisible, useless, in pain.