Inside The Mirror

Born to a schizophrenic mother, once married to an addict, too many failed suicide attempts, I have endured ridicule, fear and overwhelming depression, all while wearing a sweet, sweet smile intended to mask. Looking into the mirror now, past my physical flaws: nose a little too wide, lips entirely too thin, eyes commonly brown, I find the secret of true happiness—after fifty-nine years of searching for just that. I remember I was also loved by a man who wasn’t really my father, bore three remarkable children (whom I raised alone) and was generally well liked, well employed and even loved, by some. But, that’s not my secret. Perhaps it’s not even a secret at all, this truth so elusive to some. Perhaps it just takes some time, some pain, some forgiveness and, always, some well-deserved love. Especially for the one looking back inside the mirror.