Have you ever been to a really good House of Mirrors? You go in, it’s kind of dark, you walk around and see yourself from so many angles and so many versions.
You may be looking at one view of yourself but the deeper you look in the mirror, the more versions you see. There’s one that is a short Jan, a tall Jan, a squiggly Jan, a Jan with a face longer than her body. Then there’s one where her arms are too short to be of any use (T-Rex Jan), one where her hips are Gi-nor-mous (move away quickly!), and one where she looks like the perfect hour-glass figure. I want to stay there!
Pretty soon, you’ve gone round and round with the mirrors so many times, you aren’t sure where you came in or how to get out! Some of the houses will have wavy floors too, so that you lose all of your perspective – you have a hard time even telling which way is up and which way is down! It can be a lot of fun, especially with friends who are kind and have a good sense of humor.
If you are alone, it is not quite as much fun, but can be amusing. And if you are with someone who points out your “flaws” in the mirror, perhaps even insinuating it is not that far from reality, or that they wished you looked like that in real life… Well, then Fun House of Mirrors, just isn’t very fun. It is chaotic, uncomfortable and confusing, but not somewhere you would want to “live”.
What if you did “live” there? Or somewhere similar? Somewhere all of your “flaws” were constantly on display. Somewhere that didn’t feel “safe” or fun or encouraging. Somewhere that made you sad, made you doubt yourself, and made you wonder if life would ever be sunny again.
Maybe you already do live there. Maybe you are just getting to the place where you are ready to admit that chaos is your life. Don’t worry, I understand. I lived there for a very, very long time. Until I was very, very sad. So sad I just got slower and slower. Even breathing was hard work. And I thought I was probably breathing wrong too.
The someone who was supposed to lift me up, just kept telling me how wrong, and useless, and worthless I was. The one I loved, was not loving.
I didn’t love me very much either. I thought they were right and I was failing, so I didn’t look for a door that I did not believe existed. I did not believe there was a way out. Or that I deserved to find it.
Finding my way out took a while. And a lot of information. So does healing. That’s why I became a therapist, to help others who were tired and exhausted, hurting and sad, to find their way out, back to the sunshine and smiles. Someone helped me, so I pay it forward and help someone. Are you someone?
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