|my first trial at modeling. age thirteen.|
there are very few pictures of me as a thirteen year old.
when i got the proofs back from the shoot seen above, the whole time i kept picking out what was wrong with me. i dodged the camera whenever i could. if i happened to be in a picture, i rarely smiled or i covered most of my face. comparison was a poison, deep in my veins. something felt wrong about me. i even avoided mirrors and windows for the sake of not seeing myself.
i wrote a lot of poems, more so when i turned thirteen. as i read over a few of them, i realized something inside of me had died, or rather i had repressed my true self. i remember looking in the mirror one day and actually staring at myself, but the person that i saw in the mirror did not feel like me. i later wrote the following poem:
who is this stranger i
see in the mirror staring back at me?
it is me, plain and
nothing to be vain about,
but this person standing in another world
looks back at me with vanity.
we are one, but
she has confidence written on her face. her body
shows strength and grace. mystery and beauty
gleam in her eyes.
i ask myself, "why is it so hard
for others to see my reflection,
and for me to see it too?"
i think i subconsciously asked myself that question over the next sixteen years. during my twenty-ninth year i finally came to terms that i had been living fractured. i was me, just never me all at once. it was a daily struggle to see myself as the things i saw in my reflection, as God had always seen me, but i am happier because of it. as i look forward to turning thirty this week, i am glad that i can walk into a new decade finally as one person.
wholeness never tasted better.