No One Noticed I Was Gone
And then, one person did.
In September of 2020, I took my first solo trip to Florida.
I didn’t post about it. I didn’t tell many people. I just… left. Quietly. Ten days. Out of the state. No announcements. No updates. I think I wanted to see if anyone would notice my absence — if anyone would reach out and ask, “Hey… where are you?”
No one did.
I checked my phone when I got back, hoping for even a sliver of curiosity. But it was silent. The kind of silence that confirms something you’ve feared but never wanted to believe: You are very easy to forget.
I thought I was over that kind of pain. But I wasn’t.
It brought up old memories I had buried and boxed.
Like how my ex would leave town for work for days — and not check in, not call, not text. Just gone.
I remembered being out with a friend, her husband texting her twice to check on her.
I could vanish for 24 hours and not a single person would blink.
Some call that trust. Freedom.
I call it indifference.
I’ve always been the one who wondered — what someone was having for dinner, what they were watching on TV, if they were okay.
But I wasn’t being wondered about.
And that stung in a way that words never quite capture.
Here’s the part I’ve never said out loud.
That Florida trip marked the beginning of what I now see as a five-year spiral.
A slow collapse — of self-worth, of connection, of the will to keep pretending it didn’t hurt.
During the layover in Atlanta, I locked myself in a family bathroom and started pacing. I stared at the sharps container and tried to figure out how to break it open. I thought if I could get a syringe, I’d inject an air bubble and disappear. Quietly. Like I had arrived.
I sat on that dirty bathroom floor sobbing. Not like the movies. Just messy. Exhausted. Gone inside.
Then —
my phone buzzed.
A text. From someone I hadn’t spoken to since high school.
Just one word:
“Hi.”
That was it.
And it was enough.
Enough to interrupt the spiral.
Enough to get me on the connecting flight.
Enough to save my life — even if they never knew it.
That trip — that moment on the bathroom floor in Atlanta — I didn’t know it then, but it was the beginning of a five-year descent. A slow unraveling. I would lose more. I would hurt more. I would wonder if I’d ever make it back to myself.
But I also didn’t know that surviving that moment would be the seed that grew into Pajama Life Chronicles.
That cracked place?
That was the beginning.
Not of the end.
But of me.
The real me. The one who doesn’t need to be noticed to be valid. Who wears pajamas at noon and tells stories that once sat silently in spiral notebooks.
I didn’t vanish.
I bloomed in the dark.
🥘 The Meal That Remembers Me
Buttery Fried Noodles, Mashed Potatoes, Gravy, and Meatloaf
This was the meal my ex–stepmom used to make. She called the noodles “fried noodles,” and for years, I thought it was her own invention. It reminds me of dinners when I wasn’t invisible. Of family. Of my dad. Of being fed and noticed and included.
So that’s what we’re making today. A memory meal. A comfort plate.
🍽 Ingredients
For the Fried Noodles:
1/2 lb egg noodles
3 tbsp salted butter
1/4 cup plain breadcrumbs (or crushed crackers)
Salt & pepper to taste
For the Mashed Potatoes:
2 large russet potatoes, peeled and cubed
3 tbsp butter
1/4 cup milk or cream
Salt & pepper to taste
For the Gravy:
2 tbsp butter
2 tbsp flour
1 cup beef broth
1/2 tsp garlic powder
Salt & pepper to taste
For the Meatloaf:
1/2 lb ground beef
1/4 cup breadcrumbs
1 tbsp ketchup
1 tbsp Worcestershire sauce
1 egg
1/4 tsp garlic powder
1/4 tsp onion powder
Salt & pepper
👩🍳 Instructions
Make the Meatloaf:
Preheat oven to 375°F. In a bowl, mix beef, breadcrumbs, ketchup, Worcestershire, egg, garlic powder, onion powder, salt, and pepper.
Shape into a small loaf and bake in a loaf pan or on foil-lined tray for 30–40 minutes.Start the Potatoes:
While meatloaf bakes, boil peeled potato chunks in salted water until fork-tender (about 15–20 minutes).
Drain and mash with butter, milk, salt, and pepper.Cook the Noodles:
Boil egg noodles according to package. Drain well. In a large skillet, melt butter. Add noodles and cook over medium heat until slightly golden.
Add breadcrumbs, stir gently, and toast until crispy bits form. Season to taste.Make the Gravy:
In a small saucepan, melt butter. Whisk in flour until golden (1–2 min). Slowly whisk in beef broth and garlic powder.
Simmer until thickened. Season and serve over potatoes and meatloaf.
📥 Downloadables:
💭 Why This Recipe
Because sometimes food remembers us when people don’t.
These buttery noodles, mashed potatoes, and meatloaf remind me of when I was fed — not just food, but presence. They take me back to dinners where I had a seat at the table, where someone handed me a plate and looked me in the eye.
They remind me that I once belonged.
And maybe I still do.
🌬️ Mindfulness Moment
“Still Here” Breathing
If your chest is tight or your mind’s racing, try this simple grounding:
✨ Inhale for 4 – say in your mind: “I am still here.”
✨ Hold for 4 – say: “I am seen, even if only by me.”
✨ Exhale for 6 – say: “This moment will pass.”
✨ Repeat for 2–3 minutes.
You made it this far. That means something.
📓 Journal Prompt
What would you have said if someone checked in that day?
Think of a day you wished you could disappear. A day you felt invisible.
If someone had texted or called in that moment and asked how you were, what would you have said?
Example Response:
“If you really want to know… I’m not okay. I’m just here because I didn’t know what else to do. I’m scared no one sees me. And I don’t know how much longer I can be unseen.”
🖊 Bonus Freebie: “What I Wish Someone Knew”
A printable journal card with space to answer:
What did I need that day?
What would I have said if someone had asked?
What can I say to myself now?
Includes a gentle prompt:
Have you ever had a day where you wanted to become invisible?
What would you have said, if someone had asked how you were?
🌙 P.S. — Craving more cozy, life-elevating finds? Peek at my personal picks— the little things that helped me build a softer, stronger life.
