Invisible in Plain Sight

There are days when I feel like I move through the world like a ghost, present enough to take up space, but never fully seen. It’s a strange kind of existence, being physically here while feeling like the real parts of me are a thousand miles away. I’ve learned to walk through crowds as if I really am that ghost, my thoughts are loud enough to drown out the noise but never the memories. I’ve become good at blending in, at becoming another face in a sea of faces, another body moving from one place to the next.

People talk around me about their plans, their frustrations, things they've accomplished, but so few ever say anything that reaches beneath the surface. And I’ve become an expert at giving them exactly what they expect: a smile for the camera, a laugh at the right moment, a nod that says, “I’m fine.” It’s easier than explaining why sleep feels like a stranger or why silence sometimes screams louder than any battlefield I’ve ever been on.

War changes you. Iraq carved pieces out of me that I’ve never fully gotten back, and I'm convinced I won't. I came home, but not all of me made the trip. Some parts stayed over there, buried in sand, in memories, in moments I still don’t talk about. The world kept spinning like nothing had happened. People saw the uniform, the awards, the surface-level strength, but not the storm that followed me home. Not the nights where my mind replays things I wish I could forget. Not the days where I feel like I'm walking through life with a weight strapped to my chest.

And while I try to hold myself together, life keeps throwing punches. I trusted people I shouldn’t have. I loved people who didn’t love me back the same way. I gave more than I ever got. Twice I opened my heart only to watch it get stepped on. Twice I believed in someone who was already halfway out the door with someone else. Betrayal rewires you. It teaches you to question every smile, every promise, every “I care about you.” It makes you wonder if you’re the problem, if you’re too much or not enough, or if maybe you’re just fundamentally unlovable.

And then there are the lies. The people who said they’d stay. The ones who swore they were different. The ones who looked me in the eye and told me what they thought I wanted to hear. Every lie has added another crack, another reason to keep my guard up, another reminder that trust is something that feels out of my reach.

So yeah, I’ve learned to hide. To show the world the version of me that’s easiest to digest. The strong one. The calm one. The one who stands tall. The one who listens more than he speaks. The one who laughs at jokes he doesn’t find funny just to feel like he belongs somewhere. The one who gives and gives and gives, even when he’s running on empty.

But behind all that, there’s a quieter truth, I get tired. Tired of being the strong one. Tired of pretending everything is fine. Tired of being the person people take from and then leave when they’ve had their fill. Tired of disappearing into crowds because it feels safer than being seen.

There are moments throughout each day where I wonder if I’m broken beyond repair. Maybe I care too deeply. Maybe I’m too quiet. Maybe I’m too guarded. Maybe I want connection but don’t know how to let anyone close enough to give it. Maybe I’m scared that if someone really saw me, the real me... saw the scars, the pain, the hope, they’d walk away like so many other people have before them.

But even with all that, there’s still a small part of me that hopes. Hopes that one day someone will look past the mask. Past the practiced smile. Past the silence. Someone who won’t be scared off by the shadows I carry. Someone who won’t run when things get heavy. Someone who won’t just see the face I show the world, but the person underneath it all.

I don’t need perfect words, they often mean nothing to me. I don’t need someone to fix me. I just want someone to look at me, really look, and say, “I see you.” Because being seen… that’s the thing I’ve been missing the most.

Until then, I keep moving. I keep fighting the battles no one knows I’m fighting. I keep holding back tears that never escape. I keep hoping that maybe, someday, someone will understand the parts of me I’ve spent years trying to explain without ever saying a word.

Maybe one day someone will see me. Maybe one day I’ll let them. "fear not, for I am with you; be not dismayed, for I am your God; I will strengthen you, I will help you, I will uphold you with my righteous right hand." Isaiah 41:10 

-- Justin Bailey