Being Silenced

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I've noticed something peculiar as I've aged. People seem to look through me rather than at me, as though I'm an invisible part of the scenery. When I try to share my stories or concerns, I'm often met with patronising smiles or, worse, outright dismissal. It's a common experience among the older folks I've spoken to.

Take yesterday, for instance. I was chatting with my carer about how I’d once worked at a television station. It was a small anecdote, nothing grand, just a memory from my younger days. She listened, or at least pretended to, before quickly changing the subject to something trivial, like the weather. It was clear she thought my story was unimportant, just the ramblings of an old man. It’s even more disheartening when we’re accused of fabricating things. A friend of mine, Joan, often talks about her youth and the adventures she had. The younger staff here roll their eyes and humour her, but I’ve overheard them saying she just makes things up for attention. Joan isn’t a liar; she’s a person with a rich history, but they refuse to see it.

A few weeks ago, I told another carer that someone had been taking items from my room. She dismissed my concerns, suggesting I might have misplaced them or imagined it. She doesn’t understand that, despite my age, I’m still capable of noticing when something’s amiss.

Being disregarded feels like a slow erasure of my existence. We’re not here just to be entertained by television or left to our own devices. We have stories, wisdom, and experiences that deserve to be acknowledged. Yet, society seems intent on silencing us, accusing us of deceit or senility whenever we try to share a piece of ourselves. It’s a lonely and frustrating reality.