Every morning at 4AM, I get an affirming message in my email called "Tut's Note from the Universe." I subscribed to these notes a while back, and though I no longer open them every morning, on the days I do, I'm usually charmed. Here was the note today.
Perception Management for Advanced Souls—The next time someone upsets you, think, "Thanks for pointing out that I've begun depending on your approval. Time I lose the expectations." And the next time someone doesn't take your view into account, think, "That's okay, I was once like that." And if someone steals from you, think, "It was nothing, my supply is the Universe." Or lies to you, think, "I'm sorry you feel that need." Hurts you, "All for my growth and glory." Is rude to you, "Cheer up, dear soul, it'll be okay." Judges you, "Thanks for sharing your truth." Drives by you like a bat out of hell, "Be careful, my friend. You’re loved." And the next time someone greets you with a smile, smile back, like you're sharing a secret.
Tut's Note made me smile and wish I could be that enlightened, and also less insular and self-absorbed. When I was eighteen, twenty-five, forty, I thought I would age gracefully, philosophically, but I am definitely not doing that. I thought I would acquire a map of gentle lines on my face; I didn't reckon with these valleys, ravines, and grooves. I looked at my profile in the mirror last night for the first time in forever and felt too ugly to live. Don't worry, I'm not in danger of doing anything stupid. But as I climbed into bed I wanted to ask my husband, who was reading on his Kindle next to me, how can you stand to look at me? I didn't actually ask the question, because I knew the response I wanted was: What are you talking about, I love looking at you; whereas the response I more likely would have got is: What? You're being ridiculous. I think sometimes he doesn't really see me. He sees who he thinks is in front of him, and hasn't really focused on the changes wrought by years. I might be grateful for that, I'm not sure.
I do know that I cannot bear to see myself in the mirror. The face staring back is appalling, I don't know who she is, though I do recognize my father's face in mine, and that's how I know it really is me. I'm not gonna post any pictures that show what I see in real life. If I post pictures of myself here, it will be the ones with merciful angles, that don't show the wattled neck and chin line, thanks to shadows that fall just so. I'm vain like that. Who knew? I know I need to make peace with this face, but I haven't had a lot of success making peace with myself in the course of my life so far, so it'd be something of a miracle to find that door now.
Here's something ridiculous: That’s an AI portrait of me that looks like a photo from back in the day. The crazy thing is, in a world with no mirrors, this is how I still see myself. That’s my weird little secret.
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I feel pretty much the same.
ReplyDeleteGreeting you in solidarity, dear Kristin! xo
DeleteEverybody’s weird little secret. When you feel 25 inside, reality comes as an unpleasant shock. Margaret
ReplyDeleteMargaret, I had a teacher in college who told us, after 25, only the body ages, the perception of self never does. She was in her 70s and she knew something I've now learned to be true. She was an exquisite novelist, this woman. She had reflected deeply on life.
DeleteThank you for sharing your secret. A lifelong task for some of us, making peace with one's appearance. When I was 6 years old, I looked in a mirror, saw "wrinkles" near my eyes and sadly concluded that I "wasn't young anymore."
ReplyDeleteAt age 74, my inner sense of my appearance is much more positive than that which I see when someones takes a photograph of me or when I am unexpectedly faced with a mirror.
Something called "mirror work" as a daily practice was suggested to me in the past year or so. The way I approach it is to stand at my bathroom door with the light off and get in touch with my inner perception of my appearance. When I turn on the light, I'm always shocked to see that how I feel inside doesn't match what I look like in the mirror. I'm always startled to see the sadness in my face. My first and unfortunate perception of the sadness is that it is ugly. Before the light was turned on, I felt that my face looked simply peaceful. Early on I realized that I was seeing in the mirror the very same sadness that was expressed so clearly in a photo when I was not quite 2 years old. I try to stay in touch with the peaceful part of me and from that place inside myself have compassion for the sad part of me, the little girl who does not feel lovable, who does not feel worthy of love. I focus on loving her. Loving myself.
I wonder where the lies of body dysmorphia come from. Sending love to you, my friend.
am, i think i need some mirror work. what you describe here is beautiful in its kindness and compassion for the inner self, the child buffeted by life, who nevertheless made it through. Thank you for being here, dear friend.
DeleteI relate to this so much. I need the right kind of light, angle, sleep, and mood to be even remotely presentable. I'm so glad I don't have to look at myself all day like other people do :D
ReplyDeletejenny, light, angle, sleep, mood, it's why i stay home so much and hardly ever look in the mirror. we are mess, we two may 3 girls. love.
DeleteOh god. We are sisters. Last night my husband sat on the couch next to me as we watched another rerun of Northern Exposure and we were holding hands and I looked at him and said, "Do you really still love me?" And I had those same exact thoughts behind that question that you were thinking when you got into bed with your husband. The. Same. Which are basically- how can you?
ReplyDeleteAnd he said, "Yes," and for a second I believed him so much.
Mary, it is healing to be understood, so thank you for that. You can believe that man of yours with all your heart, for more than a second, for a lifetime. Hugs.
DeleteI think you always look so lovely, Rosemarie, and much better than me.
ReplyDeleteI've realized that I don't fuss anymore - no makeup, no fancy clothes, I cut my own hair. I tell myself "No one's looking at you!" and so I don't need to bother. But I do sometimes see my Mom's old face when I look in the mirror and I can be happy to see her again.
Ellen, thank you for your kindness of sight, but i feel a bit sheepish because i only post pictures that are flattering. I love love love your comment about being happy to see your mother's face again. I think I shall begin to call for that feeling when I look in the mirror and see my father's face again. Thank you!
Deleteoh, I get it. my face stayed youthful for so long to the point when I would go out with my sister who was only 3 years older than me people would somethines think I was her daughter. and people who hadn't seen me in years would tell me I hadn't changed a bit. and then I hit 6o and the next several years saw all those years suddenly appear. that was the whole point of the year of the selfie when I was 64, to finally accept my aging face. my mental image of myself is still of a younger wrinkle free me but my reflection in the mirror puts the lie to that. I'm not concerned though about what my husband thinks when he looks at me because he has aged and changed dramatically too. if I can overlook that in him, why would I think he would not overlook that in me? I would imagine if the spouses did not they wouldn't still be there so the fact that he is is the answer to your unasked question.
ReplyDeleteellen, I remember I found you during your year of the selfie. I wish I were that brave, that unflinching. i admired it so much. That's how I know I have a problem, maybe a mental disorder even, because I just want to hide. And yes, it all came on when I entered my 60s. That coincided with my losing 50 lbs so I thought it was the weight loss, but you're right, it just might be that I am human, and finally look my age, and should be grateful to have arrived here.
DeleteSo true. I am trying to decide if I should let me gray hair grow out (my hair is completely white but I color it). I did it once before and it was spectacular (I thought that and people constantly told me so). But--it made me feel so old, so I covered it. I have no idea why I care how old I look. I'm almost 61, and I don't think anyone is looking at me anyway.
ReplyDeleteElle, your entirely white hair sounds glorious! You ask a good question: why do we care? I have no worthy answers.
DeleteI find it shocking to look in the mirror and see my wrinkles but what can you do? I wish I had lips, but I've never had lips, so that hasn't really changed. I'm very vain, which would probably surprise people who know me, and it's hard to watch my body change, but I also know I'm lucky to get old.
ReplyDeleteYou see something different than the rest of the world sees when we look at you, which is heartbreaking.
Pixie, the fact is no one is looking a me as closely as I'm looking at myself (when I look at myself) but here we are, growing older, and that sure beats the alternative! xo
DeleteI forgot to mention how much I love those positive affirmations from Tut's Notes. They are something to aspire to, although I would be happy to be that kind and gentle occasionally, I know I couldn't do it fulltime:)
ReplyDeletePixie, I do love Tut, though some mornings I can't deal with so much positivity, lol.
DeleteAnd that's who you are on the inside, right?! Which is what matters!
ReplyDeleteThat's a very interesting idea, about body dysmorphia. I think most people want pictures of themselves to be flattering, to minimize the physical traits they don't like. But perhaps there is a line between standard concern over flattering pictures and dysmorphia. I have no idea where that line is!
All I can say is, in every picture I've seen of you on your blog, you look radiant and healthy and beautiful.
Steve, you are fundamentally kind, and I appreciate that about you so much. I also love your self-acceptance, and try to learn from it.
DeleteWhen I see you in recent photos, I see a vibrant, gorgeous woman. I wish you well in reconciling that with your feelings about how you see yourself in the mirror. At almost 65, I have extra weight. lines and bags and I've earned every one and feel lucky to still be here and enjoy what I have.
ReplyDeleteOh my dear blogging friend, yes. That terrifying old lady in the mirror. I just had to see myself while setting up a Zoom call, and it has, to be honest, wrecked my morning. I am, you see, eighty-one and counting and that woman I see is a disaster. I will not elaborate. I also have no advice. But, just know that I believe you, agree, and know that you, like me, will hang in there. Because our loved ones see us through a lens of love. And that is all, really, that matters.
ReplyDelete