The Girl In The Mirror

There was a time, a long time that I looked at myself, and rated my worth based on what people said. Based on what they saw. I’ll look in their eyes and whatever I saw in there was who I was. It was that period of phobia for mirrors, of anything that made me want to look at who I was.

High school was all about cliques and I wasn’t excluded from that. There were about three girls I walked with and did everything school related. They were not the only friends I had but I felt like I was most comfortable with. As far as I was concerned, the fact that I had good times with them and they made me laugh was enough to make them stellar friends in my eyes.

And though I concede that those outside looking in don’t sometimes understand a situation so their assessment is most of the time wrong, sometimes I feel like they are the ones that see clearly. That they see and understand better the things that you don’t notice since you’re mostly immersed in that bubble. That their emotions are true because you are blind and oblivious to what’s right in front of you.

I never really felt like my friends were doing anything wrong to me. When they went places and didn’t include me in things, I told myself that they most likely forgot. When they made snide remarks on how slim and short I was, I said that I probably should eat more and they were just looking out for me as my friends. When they constantly made statements like, “I’ve seen everyone in your family and they are spectacular, I wonder where you came from?” I told myself that they were pulling my legs. Because that’s what friends do right? Make jokes about each other. And so I’d join them to laugh and go back home, sad, to think and ponder and think again. But then when the morning came, I’ll come back with a smile, putting it behind me.

My high school was both a day and boarding school. At that time I was going from home, but my sister who was two years ahead of me in class was in the dormitory. And on most days, I’d bring food and provisions from home for her. So, on this day, I forgot to take the things I’d brought to her class. And stayed with my friends as they joked. I was oblivious to the fact that my sister had been standing for a while listening to their playful “jabs” at me.

She yelled my name and I looked up to see her. My face lit up and I excused myself to go and give her the things I’d gotten. But she said I should come with her to her class instead. I obliged and we went together. She asked me if those girls were my friends and I replied in the affirmative, already proceeding to gush about how funny and fun to be with they were.

She interrupted and said, “But you’re not happy with them.” My face twisted into a scowl and I didn’t hesitate to inform her to desist from saying things she didn’t know. But she told me that she was going to ignore all the other things she saw and heard and tell me how my face was before she called my name.

“How was my face?”

“It was sad Tess. It was….broken. You have such a fiery spirit. Your face is always filled with light and life but in all the years I’ve known you, I’ve never seen you like that. It makes me….sad.”

Now there’s one thing about the relationship I have with my immediate elder sister. Among all my sisters, we have the closest gap between our ages and we were raised as twins. When anyone yelled at her, I cried. When she cried, I cried. When she was sad, I was broken. And vice versa.

So seeing her, with tears, talking about how they didn’t see me the way she saw me, made me feel so bad. My high school was really large with lots of windows. And she took me to one of the windows of an empty classroom and told me to look at myself. I told her I wasn’t going to do that because she knew my reservations towards mirrors.

But she made it sound like an order so I reluctantly did that. I won’t begin to talk about all the wonderful things she said to me about myself but I felt more than invigorated afterwards. I felt new. I felt special. And then, she stated clearly that I had to break away from those friends that took away the light in my eyes. And if I didn’t do it, she would do it herself. And she wouldn’t be nice about it.

I won’t lie and say I broke away that day but from then, I began to see the things she had seen. It was quite ironic that what I’d been dealing with for so long and couldn’t see, my sister saw it after just a few minutes of watching me. I started socializing with other people and slowly, I drifted away. I realized that I had better fun with them and what’s more, they saw me. It pleased me beyond doubt.

That’s when that statement spoke to me. “If you don’t know who you are, people will tell you who you’re not.” And I’ve lived strongly by this since then.

Image is mine.

Jhymi🖤