Who am I really?

Last night I tossed and turned. Normally I don’t fall asleep quickly, and last night was no exception. I knew today was the day I’d have to go into work and do the dreaded financial stuff for my preschool. I have been dawdling all morning. Sleeping in, taking my time to shower, taking my picture before and after I got ready for work. Totally important stuff ya know.

I got to thinking while laying there with my head under the covers, shutting out the world. I thought about who I was. I flashed on two mirrors. One is the reflection of the awkward, insecure, acne ridden, and premature aging self. In that mirror, I see the teen who didn’t date, who felt so alone in the world of school, friends, and boys. She struggled with who she wanted to be. She thought the girl she wanted to be would make her happy and bring her all her heart desired like a boyfriend, popularity, and belonging.
Even as a 35 year old woman, I see that side of myself everyday in the mirror.
I hate her. She is needy, moody, cranky, and lashes out when she is scared. She has moments of anger and when she digs down deep enough and asks the hard questions, it all comes down to being scared that no one will accept her. That she will be judged for how she looks and in her mind, the way she looks is now and has always been unacceptable. All the work, the tears and hours spent shopping, scrutinizing even inch of herself to look passable. To be accepted in a world that puts the pretty thin people on pedestals. Looking that way doesn’t come easy. She works hard to be presentable, because in the end, on those days she hates who she is, the way she looks; either stylish or frumpy is all she has.
Those days when she is at her lowest, she dreams she is someone else, like this:

Only that dream isn’t a reality and she has to come up with a way to cope with the truth or it will consume her and take over. Her family knows all too well what kind of depression comes forth and it’s not pretty. It comes down to self hatred and is a constant battle she struggles to win everyday. But! Don’t feel sorry for her, because she is a winner. I am a winner. I have won the battle everyday that I get up and face another day. I continue the fight against myself and I win it everyday. Some days the battle is long, but I still come out on top even if I hide under the covers because I am trying. And that is all that matters.

In the other mirror, I flashed on the self that everyone else sees. More than I can count I have been told how pretty I was growing up. I had a “pretty face”. The translation I heard in my brain: You are fat, but your face is pretty and you would be beautiful if you were thin. I never believed them when they would say it. Mostly because I was am insecure. As an adult I’ve had a lot of friend relationships, and have been told with sincerity that I am a beautiful woman and they admire that I am so confident in myself. Ha! The coping skills, oh the coping skills!! I have mastered the most important ones that let me see the “pretty” part of myself to get out the door. I walk into a store, see my reflection and it’s as if the image of myself I walked out of the house with shatters the second I catch that horrible glimpse of the woman who thought she looked good. It’s a messed up way of thinking that many years of therapy hasn’t cured yet.
On good days, and most days are good by the way, I see the green eyes that catch the light. The same eyes that made my husband go weak in the knees before we started dating. I see the girl who doesn’t care what others think of her body. She walks in a room and lights it up with her wit and humor and warm loving smile. I see her engage with others and in those moments, her outer shell disappears and only the giddy fun girl shines and she is beautiful. Her smile is bright and her tender heart makes others around her gather near to hear what she’ll say next. I like to see that part of myself more than the ugly.
On the good days, I see the girl I was when I met my husband
and the girl who accepts herself as she is….

I like love her. She is someone I would want to know. And the thing is, I have friends and family. Lots of them. They see who I am beneath the exterior and love me anyway. They love me in spite of myself. I make it hard for them to love me. I hide away parts of myself and keep them close so I won’t get hurt. Everyone does. I guess what I realize is there will always be 2 mirrors. I will always see the ugly me and I will always see the pretty me and it’s ok that they live side by side. They are roomies. One makes her bed, keeping her room neat and tidy and the other sleeps on top of the covers because she comes in drunk and falls on her face after a long night of partying. Those sides of me are like the odd couple. They learn to live together because that is what makes me, well… me. Ironically, I am the same person as the “ugly” picture with just more makeup and some ninja hair moves. So. The moral of my story is, everyone is ugly when they wake up, but I am still beautiful on the inside all the time. (awwww, how sweet! I’m really sarcastic on the inside too! :P)

Who do you see in the mirror? The ugly or the pretty? Or am I the only one who sees double? Well…I hear voices too.

They tell me to buy more shoes.