In your 40s, you suddenly realize something.
Wait, have I stopped being recognized lately?
It's not about looking older or gaining weight.
It's the feeling of "not even being in someone's field of vision as a presence."
At a cafe, the clerk picks up only my voice, eyes downcast, writing notes. People passing on the street go by without looking at my face at all.
At first, I thought it was my imagination. But every day, it decreases bit by bit.
"The amount I existed in people's sight."
It's a bit pathetic to say out loud. So, I don't tell anyone.
But this is a feeling that almost every woman who has turned 40 knows deep down.
Today, I want to give that feeling a proper name.
"Becoming invisible."
This is the true identity of what we used to call 'the fear of aging.'
1. A woman's life is built on 'being seen'
This is hard to write. As I write, my stubborn conscience hurts a little.
But I'll write it.
Growing up as a woman, "being seen" somehow becomes integrated into the sense of one's own existence.
Being recognized by someone. Being chosen by someone. Being told you are cute, beautiful, or young.
I think a woman who can say she "doesn't need that" is strong. I could never say it.
Teens, 20s, 30s.
Without knowing it, I incorporated "being seen" into the feedback loop of my existence.
And then, the 40s.
That feedback suddenly starts to decrease one day.
The clerk's eyes, the gaze of people on the street I mentioned at the beginning... those were all the sounds of that "feedback" fading away.
Before I knew it, my presence had somehow faded into the world's scenery.
"I'm still here."
I want to say it to the world in my heart many times.
At that time, I wasn't afraid of aging. I was afraid of "my existence becoming thin."
2. It's not 'aging.' It's about being removed from the lead role.
There are invisible chairs in society. Men probably have them too, but I think the structure is clearer for women.
From their 20s to early 30s, women are somehow made to sit in the "protagonist's seat" of society.
CM of the center, fitting rooms in stores, posters on street corners, the seat of honor at workplace dinners.
The fact of being "young and female" automatically prepares a seat for you.
It's not that I necessarily wanted to sit in that seat. In fact, there were many painful things.
Sexual harassment, being judged, being treated lightly, not being listened to seriously.
But while sitting there, there was one certain thing.
"I am still in the world's scenery."
There was a minimum guarantee that I could feel that.
In my 40s, I am suddenly lowered from that seat.
"You're not on this side anymore."
No one says it clearly. Just, you know it by the speed at which gazes flow past you.
I don't think there's a woman who isn't hurt by this.
When you are lowered, you realize for the first time that you were actually clinging to that seat.
3. I no longer believe the 'lie' that it's okay not to be seen
Books and social media say this:
"Don't worry about age."
"Just shine as yourself."
"Other people's eyes don't matter."
They're right. They're very right.
But it's a bit unreasonable to suddenly hand that to a woman who has been "seen" since she was young.
For 20 years, from her teens to her 30s, the social system has educated her every day: "You are on the side that is seen."
Stepping out of that system means the person has to peel off 20 years of conditioning with their own hands.
Trying to solve that with the single phrase "just don't worry about it" isn't kindness. It's laziness.
What I'm doing for myself now is this:
Properly admitting my own weakness: "I'm lonely because I'm not being seen."
I don't try to graduate from or overcome that emotion.
I just observe: "Ah, I'm feeling lonely right now because I'm not being seen."
When you give a name to an emotion like that, it's strange, but the time you spend being dragged down by that emotion becomes a little shorter.
And one more thing.
As the amount you are seen by the world decreases, increase the time you spend looking at yourself.
In the morning, look at your face properly.
Today, what do I want to wear? Ask yourself.
Say "Good morning" to yourself in the mirror.
"Being seen by yourself" is plain and very embarrassing. But only this can properly refill the void left by the decrease in external gazes.
You might not get the protagonist's seat from the outside again.
However, you can properly prepare a protagonist's seat for yourself within your own life.
I wasn't afraid of aging.
A woman who has lived being seen for a long time was suddenly afraid of not being seen.
I don't quite believe in the "sparkling woman who doesn't care about age."
Probably, those who have gone through painful times internally don't talk about it lightly in public.
"I was pampered more when I was young; it's lonely."
I think this is the emotion that women in their 40s are educated most strictly not to say out loud.
"It's pathetic to be obsessed with that," or "Polish your inner self," the younger generation often says.
But you know, emotions that can't be properly felt as lonely will rot inside.
We who can properly say we are lonely are probably the most honest 40-somethings to ourselves.
I want to value that honesty more than anything.
To you who felt this article was about yourself:
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