The Girl in the Mirror

A moment of self awareness

Tonight was uplifting. Rejuvenating. Talk of politics and business, travel and culture filled the room. I felt out of place, inadequate, yet invigorated in a way I hadn’t been in far too long. I was thirsty for the abundance of authenticity and interest in one another " of being together " cast about like there was an endless supply.  The conversations weren’t deep. They weren’t philosophical. But they were joyful. Laughter flowed from one another, but not at one another. No anger ever formed these words or passed through these minds. Only joy, love and tenderness for their company.

 

When I came home, my legs wobbly from the wine, my head foggy from the weed, my heart full from the friendship, I spied a glimpse of myself in my foyer mirror while shuffling the dog out for his evening walk. In it, I saw someone staring back at me who I haven’t seen in a very long time. For the first time in my adult life, I saw a grownup version of myself as the scared, lonely 8-year-old girl I once was. Unsure of the world and unsure of her place in it.

 

Never before did I have had so much compassion for her and for her struggles. I wasn’t ashamed by her nor did I shame her for wanting to be seen. I understood her, and empathized with her. Because I was her, and I was able to see me as her. There was affection there. I loved her. And in being able to do so I loved myself. Maybe for the first time ever.