The Night I Stopped Recognizing Myself, And How I Found My Way Back

It was 2am.

I was in the shower. Not because I needed one. Because it was the one place I could cry without anyone hearing me.

When I got out I looked in the mirror.

And I did not recognize who was looking back.

The dark shadows under the eyes. The lines around the mouth. The deep tired look that had settled into my face like it had decided to stay. It startled me. Not in a dramatic way. In that quiet terrible way where you realize something has been happening for a long time and you only just noticed.

I stood there for a moment. And then I turned away.

And I kept turning away. For a long time after that.

The Invisible Years

I stopped looking in mirrors. Not like I covered them or avoided them consciously. Just a quiet daily choosing not to look. A glance to check that I was presentable and then away. Never really looking. Never meeting my own eyes.

I started escaping pictures. You know how you can feel when someone raises a camera and you instinctively turn slightly, angle away, make yourself a little smaller in the frame? That became automatic for me. I was always just slightly out of focus. Just slightly not quite there.

On the outside everything looked fine. I was showing up. I was managing. I was taking care of everything that needed taking care of. I was fine.

But the woman in the mirror had become a stranger. And somewhere underneath all the fine I had quietly stopped being present in my own life.

I wonder if you know this feeling.

Not necessarily the 2am shower. But that feeling of looking at yourself,  in a mirror, in a photo, in the middle of your own life, and feeling like a stranger wearing your own face. Like you are present for everything and actually here for nothing.

Like the volume of you has been turned down so gradually you only notice when the silence gets too loud.

The ONE Thing That Changed Everything

I tried a lot of things to find my way back to myself. If you are anything like me you have probably tried a lot of things too. The apps and the journals and the routines and the advice. There is so much advice. Do this. No wait do that. Try harder. Be more grateful.

At some point I just thought, screw it. Maybe this is just who I am now.

And then one afternoon I walked outside. Barefoot. Around my own property. No destination. No podcast. No plan. Just my bare feet on the grass and the earth underneath me.

And something happened that all the apps and journals had not managed to do.

I arrived.

Not somewhere new. Just here. In my body. On my ground. Present in my own life for the first time in longer than I could remember.

That was the beginning. Of deciding to live my life, not the life other people wanted for me. Not the life I had built on autopilot. My actual life. The one that had been waiting quietly underneath all the performing and managing and fine.

The Morning I Looked Again

I do not remember exactly when I started looking in the mirror again. It happened slowly. The way most real things do.

But I remember the morning I actually looked. Really looked. Not a glance. Not a quick check. Just, looked at the woman in the mirror and let myself see her.

The lines were still there. Of course they were. But this time I did not look away from them. I looked at them.

And I realized, these lines are laughter. And pain. And sorrow. And a life that has actually been lived. They are not something that happened to me. They are proof that I was here.

The tiredness was still there too. But it was different now. It was the tiredness of someone who had been carrying too much, not the tiredness of someone who had given up.

And then I saw it.

The light inside.

It had always been there. Underneath the shadows and the tiredness and the years of not quite looking. It had never gone anywhere. I had just stopped being present enough to see it.

Your Light Is Still There

If you have been avoiding your own reflection, in a mirror, in a photo, in the quiet moments of your own life, I want to say something to you.

Your light is still there.

It did not leave when the tiredness arrived. It did not disappear when you started living for everyone else. It did not go anywhere while you were busy being fine.

It has just been waiting. Quietly. Patiently. For you to get present enough to see it again.

You are not the stranger in the mirror. You are the light inside her.

And coming home to yourself does not require a dramatic transformation or a perfect morning routine or one more thing to add to the list.

Sometimes it starts with bare feet on the grass. Sometimes it starts with 11 minutes of finally being allowed to just breathe.

Sometimes it starts right here. With you reading this. And feeling, just for a moment ,completely seen.

Start Here

I created a free 11-minute guided audio experience for the woman who has been so busy taking care of everyone else that she has forgotten what it feels like to just breathe.

No holding it all together.

Just you, your breath, and a gentle invitation back to the woman you actually are.

Press play whenever you are ready. It is yours.

Click here to download your Quiet Remembering

And if you feel like being heard I am having quiet one on one conversations with women who are ready to find their way back to themselves.

I ask you a few questions about where you are right now. And I share the ONE THING that finally helped me turn the open tabs off in my mind...for good.

A free call with no strings attached.... Just real heart connection.

You can click here to fill out the form.