Feeling forgotten and expendable is something I struggle with too, even when I know logically that people care. I don't have a solution, but I know the opposite is true.
A friend posted something to a private list this week. They were having a morning where they felt forgotten, expendable. Not interesting enough. Not dynamic enough. Not important enough. I read it and felt it immediately, because I know that feeling from the inside.
I replied to them honestly: I can't tell you whether it helps to know others feel the same, but I do. I struggle with it too. And I always look forward to your posts. I meant every word of that. But I'm not writing this because I have a solution. I don't.
What makes this so hard is the gap between what you know and what you feel. Right now, sitting here in a clear-headed moment, I can run through the list: my family cares about me, my parents care about me, there are friends in my life and people online who genuinely want me around. All of that is true. And still, my brain can wake me up tomorrow morning and make me feel like absolute garbage because nobody noticed whatever I thought would be noticeable. The logic doesn't hold up under inspection, but you can't inspect your way out of it when you're inside it.
It'd be nice to matter to someone around enough to be noticed.
When you're in that place, the standard advice shows up: go for a walk, get some exercise, drink water, sleep more, eat something. All true. All genuinely helpful. I'm not dismissing any of it. But for me, what actually moves the needle is something slightly different. It's putting myself into a situation where I have to interact with the world outside my own head, whether I want to or not.
The embarrassment of acting like I don't matter to the people around me overrides the brain signal saying I don't. That sounds strange, but it's real. If a neighbor stops me on the way to my truck and we talk for a few minutes, or someone drops by and I have to engage with them, or a friend needs technical help with something and I can give it — something from outside snaps me back. The barista at Starbucks. My kids. My wife. A random interruption.
The frustrating part is that you can't always force it. When you're feeling invisible, the last thing you want to do is reach out and risk confirming that nobody cares enough to respond. So you stay in the loop.
Something outside my brain world pulls me back into reality.
I wish it were simpler. I wish "just think it better" worked. It doesn't. But I've noticed that the world breaking in, even in small ways, can do what my own reasoning can't.
If you're in that place right now — feeling forgotten, expendable, not enough in whatever direction — I want to say clearly: the opposite is true. I know that doesn't stop the chemicals in your brain from flooding you with darkness and heaviness and rain clouds. Knowing a thing and feeling a thing are two completely different experiences, and I'm not going to pretend otherwise.
But I know it's true for you, the same way I know it's true for me. So maybe I'll play this back for myself when those clouds gather again.
The opposite is true.
If you're in that stuck space and reaching out to someone would help, reach out to me. I can't guarantee it'll fix anything. I can't remotely give your head a shake or drag you out for a walk. But if it helps to have someone on the other end, I'm here.
And if things are darker than just a rough morning — if there are thoughts of not wanting to be here at all — please seek proper help. That's beyond what I can offer, and you deserve more than a video for that.
Mostly, I just hope you know you're not forgotten.
