Funhouse

Insecurity, a feeling everyone has felt at least once in their life. It’s the belief of not being good enough, which often stems from a lack of acknowledgement of one’s self worth. The feeling is one that cripples me every time I glance at my reflection. When I look into the mirror I’m not the girl everyone else reassures me that I am. My reflection is distorted, shifting from one insecurity to the next as I walk down a hall of funhouse mirrors.

In the first mirror, I see a girl whose body is distorted, a tubby 13 year old is staring back at me. She is afraid to wear anything that shows the slightest amount of skin, scared to stand out in her group of friends for being bigger. All that girl can think about is the fear that if somebody were to see her body in anything but an Aeropostale sweater and joggers, she’ll be called fat. She looks at every girl that passes her, comparing different aspects of her body to theirs. Her thighs are smaller. Her stomach is flatter. Her teeth are straighter. Each comparison she’s making is adding bricks to an ever growing wall. At this age it’s the first time it begins building, isolating her from others and the truth.

Up until grade five, I was a confident, happy, and sporty young girl. I played every sport from soccer, to ringette to taekwondo, but all that changed in an instant. After a long day at school, both my parents were home when I arrived. That never occured, why wasn’t my dad at work? It must finally be happening, is what I thought to myself. At this point it was inevitable. They never go a night without picking each other apart like vultures, leaving the other mangled, then flying away satisfied with their meal. When my parents sat my siblings and I down; the word divorce was the only thing I took away from the conversation. For the following months after that day, I started to eat. I ate as though there was some void I was trying to fill, but my stomach was a bottomless pit. Nothing was enough. I quit soccer, swimming and taekwondo, only staying in ringette because I was forced to. As my friends were developing bigger breasts, I was developing a bigger stomach. That’s when insecurity hit me like a truck; debilitating me in every aspect of life.

I see someone different in the second mirror. This time the girls face is distorted. She’s in her room alone, tears are streaming down her face. There’s nothing specific that seemed to have caused it other than the undying need for attention. She’s stuck behind the brick wall, it’s taller now than in the last mirror. She’s screaming to be loved but no one is answering. She looks at herself thinking that she isn’t enough for anyone. Her mediocrity is just unbearable. There’s nothing that makes people gravitate towards her. Other girls are charming, she is dreary. They are witty, she is boring. The fact that she is introverted doesn’t help. She has a hard time making friends and the friends she does have never invite her anywhere. She is lonely. No one is around to listen to her pain.

This all came after the divorce. My friends stopped wanting to hang out with me. My parents were too consumed with taking legal action to finalize the divorce that they forgot to care for my siblings and I. All the people in my life that used to make me happy just disappeared. I was now completely surrounded by the wall, no one could get to me, I’d call out to people outside the wall but no one would respond. The pain I was experiencing behind that wall was so deep and unlike anything I’d ever felt before. I was unable to express my emotions to anyone. I was completely isolated. The days continued on, I went to school, went to ringette practice, but the wall followed me everywhere, preventing communication. I was around people constantly yet still completely alone. As time went on I started to question myself and wonder if I was the reason no one wants to be around me. Is my personality bland? Am I unapproachable? These questions ate me alive while I continued to be isolated behind my wall.

In the next mirror I see the same girl but this time she’s not alone. There’s a boy with her, she’s crying to him about something.  He is trying to console her but nothing he says is helping. She tries to communicate to him but nothing is coming out. The years behind the wall have prevented her from being able to express herself to anybody. She is afraid that if she tells him anything personal she’ll scare him away. She is afraid that her thoughts aren’t normal and he won’t understand her. She is afraid to unveil all her secrets then have him abandon her just like her parents did to each other. The wall is still there but a few of the bricks were being knocked over as the boy was peering in.

Subconsciously, the separation of my parents dissociated me and my emotions. I would pretend everything was fine when I knew it wasn’t. If I were to start crying I’d make myself stop because it left me feeling weak. I kept every issue, every emotion, piled up until it was less of a pile and more of a mountain range, spanning from loss to happiness. I was unaware of this until I got into a relationship. Whenever there was a problem it’d stay with me behind the wall never seeing the light of day. This boy became the sun, shining light on the mountains of despair, a light that since the divorce the feelings behind the wall have not encountered. He tore down the bricks and exposed all the problems I had kept hidden. This left me feeling vulnerable and exposed, I was unable to express myself since I taught myself that no one wants to hear my thoughts or feelings. However, this boy was teaching me to express myself and to see value in myself.

I continue walking down the hall. The final reflection is what hurts me the most. The girl staring back at me is the 13 tubby year old girl, the girl dying for attention, and the girl struggling to express emotion. This mirror incorporates all of these different mirrors into one seamless, clear reflection. The brick wall still stands, but with each emotion I let out and with every positive aspect of myself I discover, more and more bricks get knocked over. This is the true version of myself, the one that I live with day to day. Though to me this isn’t the nicest of reflections it’s the one that I have, and this is the one I have to learn to live with.