For the past little while I have felt a bit invisible, that people aren't seeing or hearing me. Sometimes it is because a professor seems to purposely misunderstand my comments in class or because the world of my ward seems to move in an orbit that I don't quite occupy or because sometimes when people call me to see how I'm doing we end up talking more about them or sometimes it is quite literal, like when the man in the truck pulled out right in front of me despite looking right at me. So I have been feeling a little neglected. Part of it is my own fault, I tend to operate in some sort of guilt-ridden caretaker mode in which everyone's need seem to be more important than my own and I don't realize how much I have alienated the people who try to take care of me. My mom was one of the few people who could force me to let her take care of me. I also tend to keep things to myself, to let the storm rage in my head while I put up a facade of calm. But, regardless of the source, I have felt invisible. I was feeling tired and a little put upon after a long day of running from 7:30 in the morning until I got home at 9 tonight. I walked in the door and noticed an unopened boxed set of DVDs of a British television series I love but only told, maybe, two people in Bellingham that I love it. I asked my roommate about them and she told me they had been dropped off, for me, by a family we know, a family who probably has as a tight a budget as I do if not tighter, with the simple explanation that they were for me because I deserved them. I haven't called to thank them yet, partly because it is late and partly because every time I think about it I start to cry. I don't know if I'll ever be able to tell them how much their gift means to me. It is just like something my mom used to do.