I feel like Mr. Cellophane. I’ve grown up being super mindful of my manners, living in a predominately female household (my father was in my life but worked during the nights so he slept during the day) and my best friend was my sister. None of this is a negative, in fact I wouldn’t trade any of it. However, I did grow up soft spoken, mild of temper and so slow to anger that I can not think of a single time I’ve raised my voice. To anyone. What I’ve unfortunately fostered is a meek, ghostly mirage of a man. At 30 something, I have the gravity and gravitas of a mouse. During meetings what I say is given as much weight as feather compared to literally anyone. My suggestions are ignored or refuted and I have to bear the insult of then hearing my same suggestions repeated by someone else, go accepted and applauded. I’m talked over, around and as I trail off to see if anyone is still listening I get met with silence. It’s one of the most demoralizing, and disheartening things I have to face and it’s a constant knife in the gut of any self confidence I build up. I feel like I muster up this tiny ball of dirt and mud, roll it up hill, watch it get slightly bigger and then I’m pushed down to my knees and tumble downhill, ball of confidence sundered. I salvage what little I can and try the climb again, until to be knocked down. This Sisyphusian like metaphor describes my inability to actually make my voice into a roar instead of a whimper. My current line of work requires that lion roar and unfortunately I don’t think I have the fortitude to muster it.