Last night, my husband tentatively, bravely held up a mirror for me.
A figurative one.
I hated it. I didn’t want to see what it showed me.
It was a brave move for a man who hates conflict.
In that moment, he could have chosen comfort over character.
Today, I’m thankful.
The thing about avoiding mirrors is that not “seeing” doesn’t mean the problems aren’t there.
It’s like the child who covers her face and thinks if she can’ see you, she’s invisible herself. You have to admit your zipper is down to actually fix it. Someone has to tell the emperor he is naked. Or, that she has been unkind and controlling.
I’ve been the naked emperor to walking around pointing out everyone else’s lack of clothes.
Maybe you could thank the brave mirror-holders in your life today?