“I feel invisible.”
I often hear variations on that statement from people who are middle-aged or older, especially women. As our bodies age and younger people find us less physically attractive, they seem to look right through us, as if we no longer exist. Finding that we have lost our sexual currency can come as a blow to our self-esteem, even for those of us who haven’t relied heavily on our looks to garner attention. Most people enjoy being noticed and found attractive. Hardly anyone wants to feel as if they don’t exist.
As we begin to develop a sense of self during the earliest months of life, being “seen” by our caretakers plays a central role. The joy we perceive in our parents’ gaze makes us feel that we are beautiful and important, an experience that lays the foundation for healthy self-esteem. Even as adults, we depend to a significant degree on being noticed and admired to maintain our sense of self. This isn’t merely narcissism in the unhealthy sense of the word. Human beings are social animals, defining ourselves through interconnection: Although we build self-esteem by living up to our own personal values and standards, we also rely upon the regard of others to feel good about ourselves.
The primary definition of the word regard is “a feeling of respect or admiration for someone” but in its secondary sense, it conveys the idea of looking or gazing. Throughout our lives, when other people look upon us with respect or admiration, it supports our sense of self-worth.
In later life, when others stop looking, we naturally experience it as a narcissistic injury, as if it means that we are no longer “beautiful” and important. Even people who have never traded on their looks will find this experience painful to some degree.
The many articles on the subject of increasing invisibility with age tend to blame a superficial, ageist society that places supreme value on youthful sex appeal. While valid, this social critique ignores the fact that getting older inevitably involves a kind of narcissistic injury: with the changing of the generational guard, it is no longer “our turn.” The locus of social interest shifts to much younger men and women, now going off to college and launching their careers.
For those of us who married and reared children, we watch as they wed and start families of their own. It’s no longer about us, not in the same way. As we pass our prime, we may continue pursuing goals and ambitions, but it is with a growing awareness that other, younger people coming after us haven’t yet reached their peak.
On a biological level, this is all in the natural order of things, but many of us nonetheless find it a painful fact that our personal passions and concerns no longer take center stage, that we’re now more often in a supporting role than playing the lead. In his seven stages of psychosocial development, the psychologist Erik Erikson identifies the “crisis” of middle age as a conflict between generativity and self-doubt. Generativity means we come to place increasing value on guiding the next generation—as parents, educators, artists, or social activists. A person who instead remains self-centered, unable to accept the changing of the generational guard, grows increasingly dissatisfied and stagnant.