Reflect.

I had something to talk about.
Mirrors.

And then.

A friendly friend reminded me that exactly ONE year ago...TODAY:
This aired.



Just in case you missed it.

;)

Kidding.

You don't need to watch this.
But I was going to reflect on something that matched up with this air-aversary, perfectly.


I live in a hall of mirrors.
Like.
Legit.
For six weeks.
Every surface in my room and halls is covered with mirrors.
Reflecting all over the space.

And ya'll.
You know me?
I don't like mirrors.
Because.
I spend my time trying to stay busy enough that I don't have to evaluate.
Check.

Make sure.

I don't wear the latest.
Or greatest.
And 90% of the time, my hair is up in a work out bun.
And that's real life in Res Life.
Can I get an amen?!

I probably will get dressed for the dinner cruise, otherwise, meh.
They're children.
And I am not their teacher.
So.
It's good.

But mirrors and I, much the same way that scales and I do, have a sorted past.
Body dysmorphics everywhere, you know how I do.

I remember taking pictures last week while my sister was here for the day.
And I just KNEW.
They would reveal to you all how obese I now am.
How ugly.
How patches of my psoriasis sans medication that is no longer covered for free since I AM insured and not covered by the insurance that covers me, irony, have come back and made me second guess my skin.
And worth.

Did I really  just say that?
Well.
If I said it, then I meant it.
So somewhere inside.
Little self.
Is dealing with this feeling.
Of the outside dictating how important she is to the world.

And I'm sorry to put you on the spot, little self, but it doesn't.
Patches can be beauty marks.
And kisses from God.
And blotches and zits.
Beauty marks.

Sure, I can probably stop eating so much oil...and tomatoes...God.  I love tomatoes.
I can't be mad at little self.
She knows what she knows.
And her entire life.
Beauty on the outside has often been matched with beauty in the world.
But.

What's interesting for me to think to little self is how little that matters to US, rather, me.
Adult self?
We love everybody.
And work hard to see the inside self before we see the outside self.
Because often.
The packages folks arrive in - aren't really a measure of anything.
Unless you put them on a scale.
Or stand them in front of a mirror.
They are love.
And kindness.
Compassion.
Caring.
Intellect.
Hardwork.
Strength.
Courage.
All encapsulated in a package of outside.
Some of us have bigger boxes.
Or small boxes.
Lumpy packaging.
Skinny packaging.

Ann Mary, I just said Big and Small Boxes.  HAHAHAHAHA.

Anyways, Little Self, who is so certain, so steadfast in your core that you are being judged by the outside.
Friend?

You probably are.

But.
What is greater, holds more weight, and grounds us to the people we love, isn't the outside.
It is the inspirational moves they make.
Or the beautiful art they create.
Or the satisfying meals they cook.
Or the kindest ear they lend to listen.
It is the opening of their hearts to make room for us.
Or the revelations that no matter how hard you push away - they are unmoved.
::Cue MJ's You Are Not Alone and light a candle::

Friend, that tethers us to others.
Not the reflection in the mirror.
Not the white patches.
Or even the red ones.
Not the clothes we wear.
Not the style.
Or color.
Or even size.

You are BEAUTIFUL, little self.
Because you are kind.
Because you care about others.
Because you worry about everyone all the time.
Probably too much.

And because you are here.
Born to the purpose that grows within each of us daily.
On a path that is windy and hilly.
Hard and weathered.

The reflections in the mirror may not get easier after today's post, bu the words, YOU MATTER will be written again on my bathroom mirror.

And those photos with my Sister?
BOMB.

She collaged them together in a way that made me smile.
AND reminded me - she's a rare species, my sister.
Stunningly Gorg on the outside.
And even more beautiful on the in.

I also promised to use today's post to share about my AMAZEBALLS staff.
Amazeballs.
I say I come home to Boston every summer to find home.
And to grow.
To be better than I was.
These are the people who write kind words and remind me that I am growing.
Perhaps, slowly.
But I am.





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