There it is, a one year old girl being held in front of the mirror.
An uproar of thoughts and feelings reflect off the parents,
once more radiated into her soul.
Zero stress sings its song, washing over the child,
compelled to its freedom.
She sees herself as a baby,
thoughts and opinions don’t matter at her age,
although somehow
she finds herself listening to a melody of
“I want to matter”.
A seven year old drags herself out of bed,
upright confidently in the mirror.
Gazing across her outfit, there stands a powerful young mind,
potential at its fullest.
She can run as fast as she wants,
learn as much as she can,
write characters that relate to her power,
know how much she loves and acknowledges herself.
At her age, immense love, care, interest, and assertiveness rounds her up
to who she is.
Nothing could stop her now, she’s ready to take on whatever she desires
with the help of loved ones around her.
Thirteen and striving to be herself,
as she blankly stares in the mirror.
Her bloodshot eyes trace her body in that outfit.
Arms covering mental scars as her breath quickens,
foot tapping the floor,
furiously to restrict tears.
Others see this brilliant, mindful, young lady
being put to work with school and extracurriculars.
She sees someone who can’t be as talented as others
not realizing her set skills.
Burnout, perfectionism, appearance
consume every corner of her mind, tackling her own emotions along the way.
Why can’t she run as fast as others?
Why can’t she be as smart as others?
Why can’t she write as significant as others?
Why can’t she love herself like everyone loves her?
She had a sight of someone young and pure,
but she messed it up, like she always does.
She was average, not spectacular nor bad.
However, being adequate never met her standards.
She had to be skilled to feel good about herself,
lamentably,
she was scattered across needs and wants.
In the mirror reflected a girl who still had her potential,
was audacious with her mind,
and as beautiful as a starry night sky, with the moonlights shining
brighter than ever.
She saw a burnt out teenager who put too much effort to be the best,
a weakling with her behavior and mindset,
and as ugly as a blank sky, already surrounded by voids of
darkness.
This 18 year old gets ready in front of the mirror,
back at it for her college courses.
Her droopy eyelids and eyebags represent the
stress
she’s been taking on,
yet she’ll never tell.
Insecurities skyrocket,
mental tolerance plummets,
the only thing keeping her sane is
…nothing.
Her fingers would gently trace inch by inch of her reflection,
each soft touch met with regret.
At some points of visualization,
a hollow ache of what used to be resilience,
becomes the average realization.
She’d stress too much about her appearance,
being good at everything and not good enough at some particular idea when she was 13,
and she’s carried that burden with her into her college life.
Grades occasionally slip,
secrets blurt out from drinking,
and the overwhelming concept of survival at 18,
took over new heights that
could,
would,
and should
have been reached.
Everyone still sees this canny kid, with wasted potential
if she hadn’t worried constantly.
When she looks at her reflection, she sees an easy target to hurt.
Someone who’s allegedly not enough to just do what her heart desires.
Someone, who would give up everything for one chance back at thirteen,
but knows she didn’t prevail.
24, living in a beat down, tarnished apartment, but the mirror still speaks the truth,
lingering.
A newfound job sparks hope in the eyes of her life,
as she endures it every ounce of her days.
Fragility of thoughts undergo the tension of
not giving in.
In the meanwhile, insecurities and burnout are nowhere to be seen,
forgotten and lost in the sea of pressure and faking a smile.
Yet somehow, sudden pops of these old feelings burst out,
and she acknowledges them with every spare moment she has.
She wished she was back at 18, more or less, 13 or 7.
Any age but 24, where she continuously contemplates how everything may work out,
if it does.
No one notices her as much anymore,
but if anything,
they’d see your average person.
A 9-5 job with occasional (maybe not so much) struggles of mental and physical health.
Strange affinities of making money,
and deadlines being the only scheme surrounding one’s heart.
She sees, an individual that was wasted.
Potential to pursue her skills and dreams?
Gone.
Insecurities that could have been solved, and not carried into a daily mindset?
Gone.
A young, pure girl that knew she was powerful?
Gone.
Others see one of the norms.
She has a sight of a young girl that is screaming to get out of
forced passions.
Committed to her job was one thing,
but now this 30 year old lady wakes up to commitment to her most prized possession,
her family.
A past fiance turned husband guides her through every thought she ponders about,
|when she steps in front of that mirror.
Diffidence prominently aches,
after struggles of not being the perfect mom
come into play.
But in her favor, her lover collects those notions,
and replenishes each and every one.
Kids small and young grow quickly,
her eyes peeled for every waking moment she could interact with them.
Even if 24 seemed like an age she could have had a jovial smile,
regrets of being focused on self consciousness would
always
overpower.
So this time around, she was not letting any insecurity
stop her from reaching new heights with the support of loved ones around her.
Just like at the age of seven.
Passions take up into hobbies.
Potential is regained with the abundance of goals.
Apprehension is no longer incorporated in her system,
on the other hand,
it’s slashed with her confidence.
She was ready to start over her mindset, if everyone else was.
In the mirror stood what some may call your average adult.
But for the first time, she had a vision of what some others may see.
A lady with a polished heart,
exploring herself with the lack of confidence she’s taken down.
She wakes up,
as 40 years old.
Looks in the mirror and sees, that
she’s 40 years old.
And now, she’s finding herself believing that she truly is,
40 years old.
Time has flown by ever so swiftly,
her kids are now entering the age she started her confidence ditch overall,
the age of being a teenager.
In her eyes in the mirror, she finds herself thinking if she’d be the person to talk to-
not wanting the internal struggles of her kids, make them into who she
previously was.
Deep breath in,
deep breath out.
After her gain of independence and confidence,
for the first time in a while,
it quickly relapses back to 0 from the first talk.
“Mom, I feel trapped,” her kids declare.
Mind spinning around faster than her childhood carousel,
her insecurities shadow her response.
Though, she remains stable.
Nodding,
understanding,
hugs and kisses,
all actions she provides, but never once had received.
Poof, goes the deficiency of self-worth,
and in comes affection she exchanges daily with her loved ones.
She used to admire being older, then younger, then wished she wasn’t here.
Realizing the untouched emotions one may hide yet seek,
She obtains her state of life as is.
She knows, and will forever know,
she can change how her generation perceives life,
as long as she alters what she forced herself to crave.
The mirror,
physically broken with cracks,
internally sealed with founded hopes,
reflects a 50 year old woman, and her embraced smile,
gleaming with every second of her age.
No midlife crisis to be anchored,
in the sea of family, work, stress, friendships, overall balance.
She would kiss her kids goodbye to the bus,
then was called embarrassing for kisses,
and then once again was strived for just one touch of her warmth.
Occasionally, she’ll miss the exhilaration of new parenting.
Dirty diapers,
awkward tension,
and crying over a last goodbye into adulthood for her kids.
Regarding the same, she’ll miss the stress she tolerated for work.
Unrealistic deadlines,
corporate crushes,
and hefty workloads.
On the other hand, she’ll always admire how she handled situations to model for children,
rather than having minors cry themself to sleep,
as she used to.
She learned that 50 was comfortable, an age where she found herself easy to love.
Her family visiting for holiday dinners and road trips she was too tired to handle,
all added up to that fact.
She continuously needed to be different
10,
20,
30 years ago.
Yet at the moment,
all she cared about was to be
happy and healthy.
And her kids, to be
happy and healthy,
despite past experiences with that ultimate goal.
Certified youthful grandma,
70 years old.
Such as sugary cherry popsicles
on a hot summer day,
Hues of sky painted sunsets,
met with the eye rather than cameras,
and jump rope long enough to meet
her diminished cliff of despair.
This 70 year old observes her “back in my day”
black and white memories.
Each small,
close to torn square,
released an aroma of her hometown,
a taste of her mother’s buttermilk mashed potatoes,
a soundwave of laughter filling her home,
a soft touch of heat from her brick fireplace,
and a vivid sight of young friends surrounding her.
Consumed in hugs and smiles too wide for anyone’s faces.
There it was, an 80 year old woman, sitting herself in a wheelchair,
in front of the mirror.
The downpour of nostalgia and childhood reflect off the mirror,
finally radiated back into her soul.
She sings her own song, washing over her grandkids listening closely,
all together, and compelled to their freedom.
She finds herself…still as a kid.
The negative mannered thoughts didn’t have significance now.
Although somehow, she finds herself listening to a melody of
“Do I have regrets?”
Although, as truthful as the mirror has been this whole time,
she didn’t.
Her mental health shaped her,
her family modified her,
and her nostalgia secured her.
The mirror of truth, never lied,
her perspective just…
changed.
