I don’t remember the first time I looked in the mirror. I imagine it was when I was an infant in my mother’s hands as she asked me the reoccurring question, “Who’s that?” I probably placed my hands onto the mirror trying to grab my refection in awe of a new discovery. Some of you reading this may have yet to meet me, but I’m not the tallest human being. So unless a mirror was placed on the floor, as a child looking in the mirror was a challenge. I got glimpse of myself if the heavens provided a step stool, but mostly when my older sisters picked me up to reach the sink whenever I needed to wash my hands. My mom would sometimes sit me on the counter to cut my hair but other than that, I just wasn’t tall enough. I had no opinion on my appearance; it was more like a fact. Nothing negative or positive, just what I looked like.
Then 5th grade happened. Everything started off pretty normal, we didn’t move that year so I was familiar with my environment. A few months into the school year I developed a small rash on my arm. I wasn’t too concerned and neither were my parents, honestly. They had 8 eight kids running around so they put some medicine on my arm and sent me on my way. Well the rash began to spread and there didn’t seem to be a solution, trust me we tried everything imaginable. It was becoming more difficult to hide and the kids at school had a talent for pointing it out. It eventually covered my body and not only did my classmates notice, so did everyone else. It wasn’t necessarily all ill-mannered sometimes it was curiosity or pity, but there was some who looked at me with compassion. I was finally tall enough to look in the mirror on my own. It was the first time I had opinion on my appearance and it wasn’t very positive. It was clear I wasn’t pretty to the world and that I was different. I began to hate the mirror, throughout the next few years I was determined to avoid it. When I was in restrooms I would keep my head down and refused to take any pictures. I wanted to be invisible.
Then came High School, I grew mostly out of my skin allergy as I entered my freshman year. That’s when the mirror became my ally. In the mornings before school my older sisters and I tried our best to accommodate one another but one bathroom with good lightening and 3 teenager girls… let’s just say things got hectic every now and then. The mirror became my tool I looked into it as I got ready for class, games, work, dates etc. My confidence was growing, probably because I was able to be what the world wanted to see.
My life hit a couple road bumps as I entered into young adulthood. Things weren’t turning out the way I thought they would and people weren’t who I thought they’d be. This was enough of an excuse to drown my sorrows in the negative things this world had to offer. Looking at myself once again was a challenge, whether it was mascara running down my face, bloodshot eyes or a blurry image. It was then when I realized I didn’t hate the mirror, I hated myself. Who I became and what I allowed others to turn me into was the furthest from the person I wanted to be. I was ashamed and embarrassed but I didn’t know who else to be.
I woke up today, rolled out of bed, walked over to the bathroom and began my morning routine. Unaware of my reflection I washed my face, brushed my teeth and walked out into my room. I then got ready for work and began to grab my belongings that I would need for the day. Before I walked out of my apartment I stopped and looked in the mirror. I looked pretty simple, hair in a ponytail, no make-up and casual work clothes but something was different. It had been 2 and half years since I’ve gave my life over to Christ. I have stumbled so many times and struggled with my self-worth. I’ve turned my life around and have dedicated it to doing good works and loving those around me. I try to separate myself from the world and its influence. Looking at my reflection today was rare moment of knowing who I truly was. Although I have a long way to go and many more things to experience I have come closer to the person I want to be. My eyes begin to tear when I think about what God has done. I can now look into the mirror and see someone who has worth.
