Never Thought You’d Notice
There’s more here than you might notice at first. Take another look… and see what finds you.
Read or listen—and see what happens…
Life is full of surprises. You never know what’s going to happen next—or what you’ll notice.
Maybe I’m just an old-fashioned guy, but as I get older, it seems like more and more people feel alone—even some you wouldn’t expect, who aren’t necessarily lonely and have plenty of folks to talk to.
Most of us have multiple devices and social media close at hand but we still feel further apart from each other. Who knows… sometimes I think this is part of the plan.
I can hear my mom saying, “Marc, you think too much.” And then being put down by others for being too sensitive. It’s a little hard not to think about that, or notice similar kinds of things happening around me and in the world—particularly these days.
I often ask myself, “Why don’t some people get that message?” Maybe they never realized what could happen, or it went directly to their spam or trash—or maybe they just checked out and got lost.
Sadly, maybe they never learned to notice because no one really noticed them.
Funny how things work out. It took a while, but I know now that my sensitivity isn’t a bad thing that I have to hide. It’s my Core Self and is really a gift that I can share with others. Not my usual humble pie.
These days, I have the privilege of working with many who also have this gift and enjoy pie. They also tend to hide it well, but it’s not hard to find once they know I can see it and welcome it in the room.
As many of you know, it’s hard to grow up with a label that says you’re different, even if I’m wearing my famous LL Bean t-shirt. Some feel that their parents loved them, but they have a hard time telling me how they know—fearful of saying something negative about them or others—or being judged by me.
Not to be minimized, they often focus on the fact that they were given a place to sleep, had plenty of food in their tummy, and always had clothes on their back. They thought that was enough, and learned to ask for less.
They didn’t know they needed more, as things that bothered them were rarely talked about—or really heard—in their family. And they learned not to talk about them either.
The message was that they should just bite their lip if they’re upset—don’t be ungrateful. As a result, what got stuck inside so many is: I’m alone and I don’t belong here.
It can feel a little overwhelming to say the least. I call it the “kiss of death.” I suspect that many of you are familiar with that feeling, even though it’s hard to admit and still get the attention you need. Sort of like a zombie in a Stephen King movie. They feel real even though they aren’t. I guess that’s the point.
In other words, you weren’t told to leave, so you hid instead, inside yourself. That’s the feeling that sticks and is what our work is often about… undoing aloneness and helping people feel like they belong. That’s different from simply having people to talk to—colleagues, your hairdresser, or even friends at the local.
Pretty daunting, huh? Hard to know where to start and where to end. The words running through my heart and mind are, “Never thought you’d notice.”
Thank you for being here… and noticing. I’m not trying to get attention. Just trying to get your attention so you don’t miss the message right in front of you. It really means a lot to me and makes a difference to know you‘re here, and that we’re doing this work together.
It can be a hard pill to swallow. You might notice that it still tastes a little bitter—no matter how much we try to sweeten it. That high-fructose stuff doesn’t digest all that well and can kill you. At least that’s what my doctor tells me. Eating those natural things is much better for us.
Patience... the pain always sits side by side with the joy. It’s just important to take the time to be there and listen to it. That’s what friends do... along with therapists, who help us make the correction we need—inside and between.
But don‘t forget to make some time for yourself so you know the difference. Some are always there to tell you how much you’re needed as long as you’re doing what they want.
If you’re like me, I tend to get tired of that artificial stuff. Really… you know, trying to cover up the pain by not thinking about it, or not knowing what to think about—getting AI to do the work. I prefer a human and being one… even if we’re not perfect.
Gratefully, I‘ve had some people in my life who have noticed me. Thinking about my dear red-haired cousin, who appreciated my sensitivity and would rub my close-cropped hair—like her genie. It helped to know she was there… and still is. And that I can be there for her too—even though my hair has gotten grayer and a little longer over the years.
Yeah… It’s the little things that really matter. These pieces help me bring life to my work… and my work to life. Sort of like the garden around my house that keeps changing every day—weeds and all. It’s not perfect, like me… just human.
I hope my words help you in the same way—to notice and to be noticed. To find the courage to look at your garden and explore the Museum of You. Perhaps, entering those rooms that have a lot of the questions… and some of the answers too.
Those are the hardest ones to go into, but we learn the most by being there.
Things like: Love thy neighbor. Treat others like you would like to be treated. It’s not what you say, but how you say it. My mom would tell me that last one all the time. My freshman English teacher in high school called me “The Last Angry Man.” I guess I got a little poetic in my journal at times.
Take a moment… and open your eyes and heart. Notice the little things. That’s something you can start today and make a part of your life. Then you’ll start to notice the bigger ones too. Like… no one left behind. We all belong here.
I think that’s what it means to be human. And that’s definitely worth protecting.
That’s the message. Never thought you’d notice… or I would either.
What you see depends on where you’re sitting in the room and who you’re sitting with. Very cool to know that we’re here now in the light of invisibility. Not lost in the past.
I hope you’ll be okay when I’m not here. Read these pieces again if you get stuck or forget. And try to remember to lead from your Core Self, regardless of what others do or say.
If you haven’t noticed yet, I think we’re part of something bigger. I don’t need to notice everything anymore to be safe in the world. I’m just one set of eyes among a sea of eyes.
And, at least for now… I don’t need any medication to help me notice, or to stop me from noticing too much. I know in my heart what‘s important even if I forget. That’s the best medicine.
I guess I‘m just an old-fashioned city boy who enjoys living in the country. Just a guy who tears up when an old client I saw over 20 years ago stops me to let me know that I may not remember them, but she and her husband talk about me from time to time.
She looks familiar, but I hate to admit that I don’t remember her name or what happened. It’s just nice to know that they did notice… and are doing much better now.
I guess I did make a difference. I think she and her husband did too. We all do... We’re all the same, but each one of us is different too. Yeah… human. Always good to remember if I’m not here to remind you someday.
That’s my message. That’s it in a nutshell. No spam. Maybe a few mixed nuts thrown in for good measure.
Hold on… Another message just popped up. Gotta run—no, trying to walk a little more these days. I’ll be in touch when I notice something you might want to hear… Please do the same.
Heart to heart… classic Marc.
P.S. Never thought you’d notice. I was wrong… but I was also right. This is your song… No, it’s our song. Time to get moving and be real. Don’t forget to check your mail, even that annoying spam.
What are you noticing now?
Maybe an old coyote who thinks a lot—but not too much.
Dedication: To all those on this journey of heart, moving from room to room, remembering themselves—and who we are together, even when we feel alone or lost in a crowd… or don’t hear so well anymore.
Gratitude: With appreciation for those who have shared their light and sweetness with me over the years—and received mine in return.
Confidentiality note: This piece was inspired by someone close to my heart, but is a composite of many people I know—inside and outside of therapy. Any resemblance to your own life or our shared experience is both coincidental and universal—reminding us that our stories echo one another in the fabric of human experience.
Comments or questions? You’re welcome to reach me at mcecilvt@aol.com. Feel free to share these words—and this blog—with anyone you hold close… or long to be closer to.
Challenge: Notice your growing edge and hang out there a bit. See what you notice and share it with someone close to your heart—maybe over an öl brew. Sprinkle in a little Marc if you need it.
About me: Besides being a writer, Marc Cecil is a doctoral-level licensed psychologist, certified AEDP supervisor, approved EMDR consultant, and senior CSRT consultant. An experienced psychotherapist, supervisor, consultant, and teacher, Marc uses an integrated experiential model called Core Self Integration Therapy (CSIT)—grounded in our capacity for adaptive change—to help people heal from complex relational, developmental, and transgenerational trauma. Some refer to it as Elephant Work—standing solidly in the healing power of accompaniment.
Dr. Cecil lives in Vermont near the shores of Lake Bomoseen, where his heartfelt stories and images of connection arise from the light of invisibility—bringing life to therapy and therapy to life.
Stay tuned for more—as this living model continues to grow—with self-compassion leading the way around the world… and back home.