If I died - who would mourn me?

Dread, fear, shame, self-disgust and a deep sense of feeling broken and worthless whirl within me as I walk slowly to class - nothing done with my homework, once again, and my teacher's face with its frustration and apparent resolution that I am not worth his time looms in my mind.

What does it matter?  In this whole high school of students it feels like no one notices me.  My friends left me because they didn't want to be seen with me anymore and those who came to fill the space taught me how to fall behind in school, but then when I wouldn't go as far as they did - they left me too.  I am all alone, no one notices me.  I should just die.  I want to die.

Wait!  No I don't!  I just want to know who cares...  if I died - who would mourn me?  Who would cry for me?  What would they say?  Please God, can I just appear to die and float above everyone so I can see/hear everything?  Then God when I see who are my friends and who cares, can I just come back and have it be like it never happened?  I promise I will be different.  I will invest my time and attention to them and treat them like precious jewels.  I just want to know I am worth something to someone.  No one seems to notice me...  Please God.  I want to die, but - I don't want to die.

That was my story most of the way through my freshman year in high school.  (Til a miracle happened.)  I would cry myself to sleep most every night feeling worthless, unloved, and rejected.  I would lay in bed and fantasize taking my dad's shotgun and going into the tree farm near our house and putting it to my head.  The sound wouldn't bother anyone - neighbors would think that someone was deer hunting and at the most would get pissed in their own homes about how unsafe it was with kids nearby.  But then I would break down into body-wrenching sobs as I knew that it would be a couple days before anyone knew I was gone.  My family was so chaotic that the only time it seemed I was noticed was when I did not DO something I was suppose to, so only if my chores weren't done would they notice.  And, I felt like I had no friends any more...  I felt so miserable and I wanted to die, but then my spirit would cry out - "No!  Not die!"  I just really wanted to know someone, other than those who were 'supposed' to love me (aka family), cared for me.  I felt so incredibly lonely and everyday at school was a reminder of how lonely I was.

Then the miracle.  

Walking towards yet another disappointed teacher, I passed through the student center of our high school and noticed that a wall had been filled with 8.5x11 colored sheets of paper.  As I got closer I could see that all of the sheets had names and many of the names I recognized as fellow class mates.  When I had become socially disassociated from by those I had entered the year calling 'friends' it felt like school happened around me, not to me, and this felt like just another 'thing' that happened for all the other kids, but me.  No one noticed me.  (so I thought)  As I came upon the exit my eyes fell on a name on one of those sheets of paper and it said, 'Liz Riutzel'.  Whoa...  What?  Wait?  What?!  That was MY name.

Drawn like a magnet to steel - I walked to the wall.  "Liz Riutzel, what we notice about you is:  you are always smiling."  The world stopped.  My heart stopped.  My breathe seemed to hold its self for an eternity.  Someone noticed me?!

I stood there staring at this piece of paper for what felt like forever, and yet - it never felt like enough.  As soon as other people came into the student center I bolted out of the exit, desperate to not appear like it mattered, making my way to class.  The rest of the day all I could think about was, 'always smiling?'  That felt so strange, but yet - in my act of masks I did try to make sure no one saw my pain and now I realized - it worked.  However, while I thought that I felt this, 'someone noticed me?  Someone noticed me!'

That night was the first night in a very long time that I did not wish I could die.  After that day I have never truly felt unseen, or unnoticed, again; have never felt so miserably lonely, and I have never wished to die.  All because someone, unknown to me, took the time to say: I notice you...

This is not the only story.

There are so many people in our life who may have at one time felt something similar to my story.  It could have been yesterday.  It could be how they feel today.  Who may these people be?  It could be the retail service representative who takes care of our purchases, our coffee barista, our lunch server, our spouse, or even our children. 

Yet, we have the power - the ability - to change this!  Think about that for a minute.  Reflect on how one piece of paper changed my entire sense of belonging and worth.  Did the person who wrote that, the persons who came up with the idea, realize what they were doing?  Maybe a little, but they certainly had no clue the forever change it would cause.  I am eternally grateful they did it and so are my husband, my kids, my future grandkids, my parents, my siblings, my friends, my future friends... the list can go on and on. 

We can help change the way a person feels about themselves.  How?  By noticing them - in a positive way.

Noticing...  It changes people.  

How will you notice someone today?  Starting at home...

"It makes me feel invisible... "

My car points towards the curve of the on-ramp for I-5S and I see a clear path to accelerate and let the V6 engine live a little, when I notice a couple standing in a 'not-too-convenient' spot off the road waiting (hoping) someone will pick them up.

Not quite knowing why - I pull over and roll down the window, "Where you going?" the other woman and I ask each other simultaneously.  "Albany," we both reply.  "I'll pop the trunk for your stuff." I extend.

As the couple clamber in we introduce ourselves and I learn their names are Barbara and Paul.  Barbara has appropriately chosen the front passenger seat and Paul has chosen the back.  Paul comes across as a very calm and quiet sort of man, Barbara seems nervous in a shy sort of way, but very kind.

To ease the discomfort of being strangers, conversation begins.  Yet, Paul just speaks when spoken to while Barbara deflects questions about them to asking questions about me.  As I share what I do and answer her questions with specific stories she begins to share her own.

She is the 2nd youngest of seven kids.  The ages of the youngest and the oldest span almost 20 years.  Her mother was a stay-at-home type who made their food from scratch, made their clothes, and loved baking.  Her mother worked really hard and enjoyed being creative and tried to instill appreciation of the arts into her children.  Barbara grew up in a busy home, but always felt loved.  I never asked and she never conveyed what had brought her to be waiting alongside the road for a ride to some place, but she had something to share about being there.

"When I am on the side of the road and asking for help, I know that people are not able to always help.  Still I will wave and offer an acknowledgement, but you know what - hardly anyone waves back.  That makes me feel invisible and that is such a horrible feeling.  I know I am not invisible."  She was confirming something I noticed just weeks prior.  (Check out that blog HERE)  Being me, I started to cry.

As she talks a question is forming as she tells me over and over about being grateful for everything and I ask permission to share:  "It seems that you are in a place where it can be struggle, or almost a struggle, to take care of your needs.  How does it feel when you observe other people complain about what they do have, or don't have, and they are by all appearances 'better off'?"

For the first time Paul talks, "That can get to me.  But, if I let that thought stick around too long it makes me feel frustrated and feeling frustrated is just negative.  Nothing good comes from being negative.  So I just stop and think of something positive.  When I am positive it always works out." 

Before I move to Barbara I would like to ask you to reread that again...

Did you notice that he did not say, " 'try to' think" - he just 'did'. 

Barbara was honest in a different way.  "I don't like to say this, but it makes me angry.  Most people just don't get it.  Life is not about stuff.  (italics because she emphasized this strongly)  Life is about more than material things."  She takes a deep breathe to try and gain composure before speaking again.  "Life is about relationships; relationships with ourselves, with others.  Life is about love, peace, happiness, appreciation, gratitude, and..."  She puts the hands that have been forcefully emphasizing what life is about back into her lap and tries to regain peace, while yet - she seems so moved by this that it has awakened the evangelist spirit within her.

After a moment she quietly says, "I see people drive past me and I can tell that they are not always able to help me with a ride.  They have a full car, they have kids, they have too much stuff in the car, but you know - when I see a single driver in a big SUV and they won't even look at me...  it makes me angry.  I want to be positive like Paul.  I just don't like how people are so focused on stuff."  She says the last part like it was a bitter pill that dissolved in her mouth before it could be swallowed.  "Be grateful.  Be grateful for everything."

When I dropped them off at the funeral for their friend I drove away unsure who blessed whom - me for helping with their need for a ride or them, for sharing and affirming what my heart needed to hear.