“Take my hand,” she said, “everything is going to be okay.”

One year ago:

It was 6:30 a.m. and I lay in my bed listening to the rain gently tap against the window. Once again, I had woken before my alarm and despite my best intentions, I couldn’t be happy about that. I didn’t feel the urge to leap out of bed, fling open the curtains and shout, “good morning beautiful world” and then proceed with half an hour of morning yoga followed by a gentle meditation.

In fact, I felt the complete opposite. I felt empty, unfulfilled and rather lonely. I wanted nothing more than the night before to start again, so that I could fall asleep and not have to think about anything, just dream.

But hey, time travel was only for TV shows and if real, it certainly wouldn’t be used for such trivial things like staying in bed for an extra few hours.

After eventually dragging myself out of bed, I wandered dazed into the bathroom, and stood with my hands resting on the sink. The mirror was perched above and today, just like every day, I stood for a moment looking into the mirror. My pale face stared back at me, blankly. And then it hit me, all at once, faster than the speed of light and harder than as if a tonne of bricks had just fallen on me.

I didn’t recognise the girl in the mirror.

The girl looked unhappy, empty and tired. Her eyes didn’t smile back at me, she just stared deep into my soul, I blinked but her stare did not waver. My mind began ticking, slowly, like a clock running on a near-empty battery. Some “ticks” were slower than others, some “tocks” were out of time. Ever so carefully, I began to trace back in my mind to when I first noticed the emptiness and when the dark clouds began gathering in my head. But I couldn’t remember.

I gripped the sink tightly, my expression turned to one of panic. For weeks and even months I had stopped noticing her, stopped caring for her and yet, she was always there with me, my shadow, my reflection, my inner voice. I felt so ashamed as I stared into the plughole, I daren’t even look back into the mirror. I couldn’t understand how I’d let her go, how I’d somehow lost her on my journey.

My mind began to race through memories, searching for answers. Up until the moment I looked into the mirror, I was oblivious to what had happened. I began blaming other people in my life for pulling me away from my path, for distracting me from my dreams and for not keeping me on my toes. I became angry and confused.

But maybe, I thought, maybe I am the one to blame.

It was eerily quiet, the rain had stopped and a dead calm had swept over the house. Then, as clear as day, the mirror spoke:

“Take my hand,’ she said, “everything is going to be okay.”

Present day:

In reality, the mirror did not actually speak, but in my confusion and torment, my inner voice spoke out. She didn’t judge and didn’t question why it had taken me so long to realise what was happening. In that precise moment, I knew that somehow, everything was going to be all right. Because even though I’d wandered far from my path and into the darkness without her, I had faith that we would be reunited and that this moment in my life, like all moments, happy or sad, would pass.

In today’s society, it so easy to lose ourselves—we spend hours watching the lives of others on social media, constantly comparing our existence to theirs. Constantly wondering whether or not the grass is greener on the other side and staying in unhappy relationships because we are too frightened to step outside our comfort zone. Until one day, we wake up and realise that the reflection staring back at us in the mirror is a miserable version of our true self.

Please don’t give up; your true self is waiting.

And as I have discovered over the past year, your true self is always with you, sometimes hiding behind shyness and excuses, but nevertheless, always there. Never judging, never second guessing you, just waiting patiently for you to take them by the hand.

Author: Melissa Harkins

Editor: Catherine Monkman

Image: Sarick Banana/Deviantart