Mirror, mirror

Well, it certainly has been a while... Almost a month, actually. There's a lot I'd love to write about, and a lot I CAN'T write about on here, unfortunately.

I've been thinking about what other people see when looking in the mirror, and how closely that image reflects reality, or at least the reality of what those who know them actually see.

That (what others see) can be very misleading, incomplete, or even inaccurate, of course... So I guess the "reality" of our identity really changes with the eye of the beholder, and the tenor of that reality changes with the motivations and attitude of said beholder.

That gives other people a LOT of power over us if we do not have a clear sense of who we are, why we are, and where we are going.

Interact with the wrong person - one inclined to negatively spin things, either overtly or covertly in a manipulative fashion - and our grasp of our own persona changes perceptibly. Pick the wrong mirror and you see failure rather than achievement, age rather than strength, disappointment rather than accomplishment. Everything about who you are will darken and shrivel.

Find the right mirror, and you and your world brighten, and the wrinkles become character, the point becomes the journey rather than the result, and you become much less critical of that reflection you see each day.

Having experienced emotional abuse of varying degrees at different times in my life, and now, finally, living in a world where my main mirror seems to focus on my good features while reflecting my bad back with acceptance rather than judgment, I am VERY sensitive to the topic.

I think of emotional abuse as living in a world full of funhouse mirrors - the kind that distort from every angle, unexectedly and inaccurately, and always with the intention of keeping you from truly seeing yourself. Funhouse mirrors take your best feature and turn it grotesque. They reflect you in ways that become disorienting. They take an element of your true reflection and twist it, leaving it barely recognizeable. They give me a headache and make me uncomfortable and self-conscious.

So too the emotional abuser.

A friend of mine is so firmly entrenched in that funhouse that I am at wits end as to how to reach her. No reasoning or logic or pointing out of her husband's insane behavior registers with her. She defaults to blaming herself and worrying about doing anything to make the situation worse by upsetting him further. Without getting into gory details, the whole thing sickens me - in part because I cannot get through to her, in part because it is so awful and crazy that I can't believe she won't take control of her life, and in part because, for a brief time four years or so ago, I WAS her. How she has lived like this for 20+ years is beyond me. Twelve months, to the day, of that hell about did me in - but it also made me stronger once I recognized it and fought back.

And there-in lies the key. Too many of us choose, and accept, the reflections that mirror our own fears. For some reason, many of us allow ourselves to be susceptible to people whose motives are destructive rather than constructive or supportive. So many people in this world seem to mask their own unhappiness or lack of fulfillment by undermining the people around them. We all know the person who is adept at taking the wind out of sails... Who uses passive-aggressive (or outright aggressive) words and actions to influence or control or slant the reflection you see. We all know someone who, rather than take pride in their own accomplishments or world, seems to take pride in diminishing yours.

I can tell when I've spent too much time looking into the wrong mirrors. The person I think I am becomes less confident, less comfortable in her own skin and world. I see all the signs of aging, feel unfit no matter how hard the workout, hate my hair and clothing, cringe at my times and performances in races, feel pointless and deeply flawed as a person... I see a failure, in many ways, and waves of discontent wash over me. All my fears and insecurities shine in that mirror.

When I am blessed enough to find a positive reflection, the cloud of doubt dissipates and the image I see looking back at me seems softer and less flawed somehow. Same exact person- completely different paradigm.

Who we grant the power to paint our image says a lot about ourselves and perceptibly affects our present and future. How many goals and dreams have gone by the wayside because we got lost in the funhouse, or even in a place where just one cracked mirror held sway over our world? What paths might we have followed and experiences might we have enjoyed had we picked the right reflection to believe? How much time have we wasted trying to disprove an image that isn't really ours anyway?

The image I saw looking back took on so many more colors and such greater depth when I finally found the right mirror to look into regularly. The path my life (and the girls' as well) travels now and who we think we are as people improved and broadened when we met Matthew. I don't always like who I see reflected back at me, but I always know that I can trust that reflection (if anything, it errs on the nicer side, lol) and the motivation behind it. Seeing myself through Matthew's eyes has given me the confidence and peace that life in a funhouse completely destroys. I'd like to think the clarity he provides will forever insulate me from any lasting effects of brushes with the distorted images some people insist on giving to those around them.

I wish my friend would get out of the funhouse, but I suppose some people become so disoriented that they cannot fathom the chaotic images are not reality. I hope my girls, and the people I care about, learn and live the fact that a steady, unwavering, clear reflection that encourages self-awareness, introspection, and acceptance far outweighs the adrenaline and fear fueled rollercoaster of the funhouse.