mirrors

She was a little girl once, beautiful and innocent. Then life happened. She got hurt. And somehow, somewhere along the way, long before I knew her, that little girl figured out how to cope with herself and the people and world around her in a way that kept it all at a safe distance. She created her own reality.

And now she is locked in there, and that reality seems very rational. To her. It has pieces of what the rest of us experience, but it’s much like the mirrors at a fun house. Distorted versions of what stands before them. Including me.

I spent my life trying to figure out how to make sense of fun house mirrors, attempting to please them while simultaneously struggling to figure out what reality truly was. Confusion. Ambiguity. Always questioning myself, wondering what is real.

Over time the mirrors took over and the ground ceased to exist and I floated in a nebulous darkness. Which way is up? I groped around, grasping for anything to help me orient myself. How do I get out of here?

Eventually, miraculously, I found a way out of the fun house. There were people who fought for me, who loved me. But what made the biggest difference was when I decided to fight for me, too. To do everything I could to find out who I really am, not whom the mirrors say I am.

Now I am out. The force of gravity tells me the ground is down and the sky is up. And I love knowing those basic things.

And I desperately want to bring the little girl who led me into the fun house out and show her the ground and the sky. I want to show her the mirrors lie. They distort and trick.

But she has been in there so long that gravity and ground and sky are petrifying to her and the mirrors have become safe. And while all I want to do is help her, love her, that’s not what it looks like in the house of mirrors.

So she remains out of my reach.

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8 thoughts on “mirrors

  1. Simon Marsh says:

    Maybe Rebecca, in time, “little girl” will see how many people love and admire you and all that you and yours are achieving together; that there’s beauty and glory and wonder and healing and wholeness outside the hall; something of “good life” that is obviously sustaining you – and helping you to write wonderful things. And maybe, just maybe that will begin to change little girl’s view of things, give her a new perspective on life, a taste of deep joy. Meanwhile you can share so much with her, and with us, in writing. I wonder if little girl ever imagined that writing could be such a gift? – that it’s possible, by means of storytelling to be in touch with people half a world away, and to be more deeply in touch with oneself simultaneously? For me it’s a form of prayer – a reaching and a teaching and a knowing and a growing. It’s a marvellous and extraordinary life. Maybe little girl will write a bit about life from her perspective if she thinks you and others would be interested in what she has to say. (And Canon EOS photography can be a fabulously creative and artistic outlet too, eh?) Joy and peace for you today. And for little girl too. Perhaps she’ll let you post a photo of her some glad day? And I don’t doubt that you’ll find a way to help her know that she is deeply loved 🙂

    • itsakoolife says:

      Thank you, Simon. What wonderful words you have to share with me (us). I am so grateful for your encouragement and affirmation. I smile at the beauty of your spirit and your willingness to share it!

      • PAULINE says:

        I love this entry Rebecca. I grew up with a little girl like this. She is no longer here. She left this world never knowing who she really was and how beautiful life outside the fun house could be.

      • Rebecca Koo says:

        My heart aches for you, my friend. Both in sadness and in joy, for although the little girl you grew up with never found her way out, it seems that you did. And yours is a beautiful life indeed. Grateful for how you have touched mine!

  2. Christine says:

    Live, laugh and love. It is all we have and sometimes the reflections we see are not the true reflections of who we are especially to those we love and love us.

  3. This whole entry is so beautiful and haunting, but my favorite line is this: “But what made the biggest difference was when I decided to fight for me, too.” Yes. Such a turning point for all of us. And it is so frustrating to be around people who can’t reach this decision, as much as we want them to. This was really, really moving.

    • Rebecca Koo says:

      Thank you, Francesca!!! I am so glad to hear this and was curious for your feedback. It was a moving piece to write and one that ended much differently than it started, and fed me and challenged me the entire way through the writing process. Thank you for seeing.

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