When being noticed leaves you feeling invisible

You might imagine that people considered 'above average-looking', or better still, 'good-looking', have it much easier in life. What’s often not discussed is the loneliness that comes with being seen only for how you look.

It is not the loneliness of invisibility, but of being looked at without really being seen. The women who carry this wound often do not have words to describe it.

They have probably been told their whole lives that beauty is a gift, and so they feel they have no right to complain about it. Or perhaps if they are above average in intelligence too, they’ve been told that they are “too much”.

Here is a fictional case drawn from my clinical work about a woman who struggles to be seen and fully accepted.

"Sometimes I wish I had been born beautiful like that. I want to try it, just once, see what it's like." Nadia was reading aloud from Haruki Murakami's After Dark. "Mari wanted to know how life would be if she were as pretty as her sister."

"And I wept as I read it. I couldn't stop. I wish I could go to this fictitious teenager in Tokyo and tell her how hard life can be for women who stand out," said Nadia, looking distraught.

Nadia couldn't bring herself to call herself beautiful. She had never dared to talk about her looks before now, and she had been carrying this pain for decades. She was grateful for the way she looked. Very grateful, she said. But the attention her physical appearance got made the rest of her feel completely unimportant. It was the only way she had ever been seen. "I did nothing to look the way I do. I just inherited my mum's face and frame."

She was an "introverted-extrovert," as she put it. She loved books, writing, poetry, and art, and was perfectly happy in her own company. But she came alive with the right company, especially when she spoke about what she loved.

Her passion for life, for people, for eclectic knowledge drew all sorts of people in. As did her face. That's what made things complicated. Her face seemed to overshadow everything else. Men were quickly attracted to her, making every interaction tricky, painful, and short-lived.

When appearance affects your experience at work

The attention she received made many people at work uncomfortable. She noticed people often reacted strongly to her. She felt they often tried to 'put her in her place.'

Someone recently asked how she had got a ‘Head of’ title at work at such a young age, naming a Partner who seemed to 'be in love' with her.

Then there was the 'feedback' she received that no male colleague ever seemed to get: that she was intimidating and aggressive. Men didn't want to report to her while others spoke over her in meetings. Women would often be cold. 

Research on what psychologists call 'backlash' shows why.

When women display the very qualities leadership requires – confidence, assertiveness, authority – they risk social and professional penalties for violating expectations about how women "should" behave. “And then there are the inappropriate advances and comments that I get daily.” "I seem to get corporate trauma on steroids," she said.

How early experiences shape self-worth

Growing up, the family never talked about Nadia's looks. She didn't really know how she looked until her 20s, when the male gaze became omnipresent. "It was all about being smart and independent while growing up."

Her mum often reminded her not to be too proud of how she looked; what mattered was what was in her head. So she focused on becoming smart. She read, she observed, she engaged with the world.

As an adult, however, despite building a good career, no one seemed to notice what was in her head. This made her feel invisible, even though she seemed to get all the attention. The attention she did get was short-lived, too. Men would make advances and then retreat after being rejected, and women would find her annoying, vain or simply “too much”.

The loneliness of feeling misunderstood

For Nadia, being valued for her appearance rather than her personality or abilities became isolating. "You can't really tell your girlfriends how much attention you get at work, as it would just annoy them," Nadia once said.

"I couldn't understand the silence, or the hostility, that my stories often received from my friends. They could moan about how horrible their manager or colleagues were. But if I said anything about clients making inappropriate remarks, or colleagues undermining me, it seemed to get no sympathy from my friends."

It took her decades to realise that not all women get as much attention. When we began working together, she was in her forties, confused, lonely, and unable to meet the world.

When people-pleasing becomes a coping strategy

Nadia realised something during our work together.

People often perceived her as meaner or more conceited than she was. So, after a lifetime of defending herself, she started being nicer to everyone. More giving. More helpful. People-pleasing became her way of life, a way to protect herself. But it got messy: the more she pleased, the nicer she was, the more attention she got.

Withdrawing to avoid judgement

When trying to please others no longer helped, Nadia began to withdraw. She made herself small. She muted her opinions in meetings, spoke less and apologised when she took up space. She became quieter, duller, less.

And it worked for a while. The hostility eased a bit. But so did the attention. Now she was invisible in a much worse way. It felt like she had been erased.

Appearance, ageing and self-esteem

Nadia said she now saw a tired, older woman in the mirror, a woman she didn't recognise. "I look grotesque," Nadia said once, gesturing towards her belly and the area beneath her eyes. She wasn't, but for her, signs of ageing had begun to surface experiences she hadn't been able to process without a safe container.

She was grieving the beauty she was never able to enjoy.

Ageing can be hard for anyone. But when your face has been your main form of currency, the way you meet the world, the part of you that defines how you are welcomed, treated, desired, wanted, and you start to lose it, it can feel impossible to bear.

How hypnotherapy can support self-worth

Not being able to talk about her looks or telling me and then not feeling understood would have felt like a reenactment of the very wound that Nadia had lived with. In therapy, we named the cost of her beauty: the loneliness, the deep sadness of being seen and not known. 

Through a combination of talk-therapy modalities, Nadia was able to recognise and name the wound. We then used hypnotherapy to meet the inner child who was never told she was beautiful, and convey warmth and love to her. We worked on the people-pleasing aspects of her personality by building her confidence through hypnosis. 

Nadia’s rational mind understood many of these things, but her emotional side couldn’t help feeling responsible for how others felt. We worked on the automatic responses in her body and mind that led her to feel like she was too much.

Through hypnotherapy, we explored some of these deeply rooted responses, helping Nadia build greater confidence and feel more comfortable expressing herself.

Nadia still catches herself apologising for taking up space now and then. She still notices the old reflex to shrink. But she can now act against these automatic reactions and has 'begun to take up room.'

Women who carry this history rarely come in saying 'I am too beautiful.' They come in exhausted, guarded, unsure why they feel invisible. We work with the meaning attached to their beauty and the armour they built around it.

If you find yourself constantly worrying about how others perceive you, putting other people's needs before your own or struggling to feel comfortable being yourself, you don't have to navigate these feelings alone.

Hypnotherapy may offer a supportive space to explore patterns of self-doubt and develop greater confidence and self-acceptance. A qualified hypnotherapist can help you consider whether this approach is right for you.

This fictional composite case study is drawn from the author's clinical experience. No individual client is described.