I was searching for myself
In a mirror that was blind,
But my reflection stood behind me.
Yet I would not turn around,
For fear of what I’d find,
So I closed my mind to who I could be.
I wrote this poem several years ago during a time when I had decided that happiness was more of a suggestion than an actual state of being. I only just recently came across it, and it left me both humbled and amazed after I finished reading it. I felt as though I had peered back in time and found the exact moment when I gave up on myself. The point when my head dropped down, chin tucked into my chest, while shallow breaths betrayed my wish to disappear. It was a time when I was filled with more than just sadness and shame. A time when I struggled and fought to understand it all until one day I finally stopped, convinced that I would never be the light that chased away the shadows that fear and regret had smeared across my floor.
I have reached a point in my life now where I can look back on those days, and I can finally, with so much compassion, properly grieve for that girl who felt more comfortable crying on the bathroom floor than smiling in a room full of people. I can see how much she struggled, and I can finally understand why. I can also see that it wasn’t her fault, regardless of what she thought. And I can, with absolute certainty, see that she did one day discover how to be the kind of light that washes the darkness from the room. With the softest of exhales, she did one day find the courage to turn around, and she shone so brightly when she did.