“What do you see when you look in the mirror?” She asked me.
“I see stretch marks and cellulite,” I said in a shy voice.

“Look again and tell me what you see,” She replied.
“Split ends, dry skin,” I quickly muttered under my breath.

“Look deeper, and tell me what you see.”
“I see a scared little girl,
Who feels broken inside.
Sad.
Who once wanted to die.”

“Deeper, look deeper,” She pressed.
“I see a girl who carries so much anger,
And she’s struggling to let her pain go.”

“Look in the mirror again, with fresh eyes, and now what do you see?” She said to me.
“I see 5 and 12 year old Jack, the one’s I couldn’t protect,” I said as I broke down and cried.

“Look again,” She said.
“I can’t, it’s too painful,” I sobbed, unable to look into mirror.

“Look at yourself! She yelled.
I picked my head up and looked at myself in the mirror.

“Now tell me, what do you really see, underneath all the pain, the sadness, and the surface. What do you see, tell me!?” She urged.

“I see a strong woman.
Who is no longer afraid,
Or broken.
Who speaks up.
And no longer hides.
Because she’s a fighter inside.
But above all…
I see a woman who loves herself!” I screamed into the mirror with conviction.

“Good. Now you see what I see,” She revealed to me.

“She,”
Was me.

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*What do you see when you look in the mirror?

 

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