The Monster in the Mirror

In the world of self ­development, one hears the question, “What do you see when you look in the mirror”? For twenty-five years of my life the response was, “Not much”.

I was thirteen years old standing in front of a lengthen mirror. A tomboy with a ponytail, dyed black, and the brownish-blonde roots coming back. I wore a stained white t­-shirt and light faded jeans my parents found while dumpster diving. Almost positive I had knock-off doc martins on my feet. This is who I was, a white trash girl. Up to that point, I believed I was human. That day I turned into something different. While studying my youthful face, a creature emerged from the reflection. I saw the new me with shame, with disappointment, an ogre. Dropping my gaze from this figure, I didn’t pick it up again till late into my thirties.

Never putting on make up was never a issue. Pushing car mirrors away became habit. Squinting when I had to look in a mirror was a good defense. When someone had told me there was a something on my face I would rush off to a bathroom. Rub my face making sure I got it off but not knowing for certain.

Technically, I knew what I looked like as age had advanced my facial features. I had no quandary looking at pictures or videos of myself. The dissociation was so great it was like looking at someone else. When I turned thirty seven events occurred that forced me to analyze the hatred I felt for myself. Basic psychology would say it derives from the abuse I went through as a youngster. I didn’t realize the actual answer was right in front of me.

I planted myself in a hypnotherapist/psychologist’s office. Lying down with eyes closed. Feeling genuine faith that she could push me to face myself again. I took off with a recording of the session. I self hypnotized myself twice with the audio file.. Less than a week happened. While, getting out of the shower one day and I glanced up toward the mirror. My eyes wide open my gaze straight at my face. Antipathy kicked in, but I managed not turn away, I couldn’t. I peered deep into my big blue eyes and stared at my iris. I examined my unhappy curative of my mouth. Glanced up to my light thin eyebrows and wondered what they would look like if I waxed them. I had achieved it. I looked. I was not to get discouraged if I reverted because regression was part of the healing…

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