For the most part, I glance in the mirror only briefly to check my hair (what’s left of it) or to straighten my tie. Absent-mindedly, I may notice small things as I brush my teeth.

On those rare occasions when I stop to look at the whole package that is me; however,  I’m always surprised and not pleasantly. Do I really hold that stance? Is that the posture of my shoulders? Is my waist that prominent all the time? Is this how I project myself? This is completely different than how I see myself when I’m out in the public world!  I’ve always pictured a more together person, more presentable than the reflection I witness in the mirror.  It’s like hearing your recorded voice and wincing at the sound; as if it’s camouflaging what you believe is your true message. What a disappointment! What a shock!

If that’s my real presence, it’s a wonder others take me seriously or actually enjoy my company. I sometimes feel like I’ve crafted a long- standing message only to realize I’ve been misunderstood all this time. I could try to suck in my gut,  maybe square my shoulders and deepen my voice, but I’m sure eventually, I would slump back into the reality I see in the mirror. Instead, I wish everyone else could see the imaginary me, the better me. That’s what I want them to see; not the testimony from my mirror.

On the other hand, my colleagues still choose to work alongside me. My family loves me and my friends still call. From their perspective, my presence with them is genuine and tolerable.

Perhaps they experience these epiphanies too from time to time. Maybe they too get shaken by the chasm between what’s real and what we think is real about ourselves. If that’s the case, I shouldn’t be so insecure the next time I’m awakened to the reflection that is me and I should try not to judge others.

I’ll still be disappointed and hope for a better me the next time I’m checking myself out, but I won’t curse at the mirror; or at least not with such deep profanity.

THE WATER MIRROR

On a calm day, I gently lean my head over the side of the boat and enjoy my reflection on the surface of the water. The liquid-still image is clean and clear; framed by nature and by natural light. This composition hides some scars and I appear the way I should.

Until those ripples! Those tiny waves distort my face and I struggle to retrieve even small traces of what I thought was me. The reflection was deceivingly shallow. I quickly right myself in the boat and erase the image in the water mirror.

B. Toner 2016

Seek counsel.

Good advice when I feel I’ve been wronged. Search out a friend or a confidant and share my pain. To heal, we all understand that internalizing the suffering can’t be the only outlet. It requires language and sometimes deep discussion. I believe in that process and I practice it. People who are close to me hear my grievances on many occasions  and knowing they know, can sometimes validate my emotions.

On the the hand, I need to remove my cloak of victim-hood at some point. Perceiving myself constantly as the one who has been hurt is very limiting. As a victim, I am blind to any other reasons or causes for my situation; blind to the motives of my offenders. This vision of helplessness, justifies my feelings of self-righteousness and my over-the-top sense of indignation. I identify mostly in the sympathy of allies and rarely recognize the hurt in others’ eyes. Under this cloak, I relate all past and fresh offenses to my present state and get stuck.

If I can stop seeing myself as the victim while I’m still entrenched in the conflict, imagine how differently both of us would progress. Instead of breaking apart in our differences, we’d be building on the intimacy of our openness. I may even grow.

I’m going to try to put away my cloak for the inevitable season of conflicts. I’ll be warmer without it.

Super Cloak of Victimhood

I’ve been slighted! I’ve been wronged. I don my super Cloak of Victimhood.

It humbly broadcasts my sufferings and secretly strengthens my indignation. Its medicine dulls the pain and hides it in the company of sympathetic ears. It protects me from all attempts to remediate. My Super Cloak recalls my long list of endurances and prepares me for the upcoming onslaught of offenses. I wear it with unjust modesty and it brings me false comfort. Underneath its cover, I have no need for change; no circumstances to consider.

I persevere under my super cloak of victimhood.

B. Toner 2016

When talking to my son at the close of the day, I usually start with something that I know he can easily explain or quickly respond: How was lunch? What did you do during your free time? I also keep in mind what people counsel me to do: focus on the positive events occurring throughout those hours apart. Family relationships with adolescents can be stressful and if we are quick to bring up what went wrong, logically we run the risk of overstretching that tender bond.
On the other hand, if I dismiss the negative too quickly, am I piling on to unreal expectations? We don’t want those close to us to think that things going wrong is unusual or in some way makes them less; even when the nasty event was caused by our loved ones. My son and others need to accept the choices they make and learn from them. By avoiding this vital discussion, I’m missing out on the opportunity to grow.

Perhaps my question should be “What did you learn from your choices today? Whether they were the right or wrong choices?” Maybe it’s a question I should be reflecting on myself. That’s a difficult habit to get into, but trying it as a parent who errs frequently might save my son from thinking that screwing up during the day makes him different from anyone else. It could remove some of our shame.

“What did I learn from my choices today?”

“For every action, there is an equal and opposite opportunity.”

B. Toner