What they don't tell you about becoming someone new

One day, she looked in the mirror and realized she didn’t recognize herself. 

The hair, the lipstick, the eyes were different, yes. But it was deeper than that. For when she looked in the mirror, she saw the beyond, saw the girl she used to be simultaneously with who she was and who she wanted to be–and realized how far she’d come, how much she’d changed, and how far she had yet to go.

The unfurling of herself, the unraveling from their expectations and their predispositions and her own conformity had been long and winding. She hadn’t noticed the almost imperceptible changes–the rejected dogmas, the new beliefs, the ignited fire in her eyes. The desire for something more, and the willingness to step up in her high heels and grab it, even if it meant kicking in a few doors. 

Still, for all she knows she’s achieved, for all the better she’s found, it still scares her sometimes to look in the mirror and see that person she didn’t think she could be.

For that’s the thing they don’t talk about; how becoming someone new is terrifying. To step so far out of the comfort zone, to abandon old cages you were trapped in, to wander so freely you can become anyone is to become someone you don’t know sometimes. It’s terrifying to go so far outside the lines you have to make new ones.

She’s different now, true, and it’s cost her things along the way. She’s lost friends and connections. She’s lost some of the beliefs she used to hold in her heart. She’s lost perspective of who she thought she was once. She’s lost her reputation as the “always nice girl.” Sometimes, she doesn’t even feel like the same person. 

But in the unfurling process, she’s also gained things too, she realizes.

She’s gained confidence in the knowledge she can do things that terrify her, from getting tattoos to taking ballet classes to pursuing new jobs to listening to her gut when it says she needs yet another new beginning.

She’s gained a belief in herself, that she is worthy of respect, of grace, of opportunity.

And more than that, she’s gained her voice, not in an Ariel sort of way…but in a deep-rooted, ruffling feathers, I am here, hear me, sort of way.

She looks in the mirror and sees the red lips, the fire in her eyes, the long hair. She doesn’t quite recognize herself, but she smiles because she knows that’s more than okay. Because to really live, to really truly find fulfillment, you sometimes have to undo yourself completely. And you might not recognize yourself at first…but as she fixes that red lipstick, she smiles, knowing that’s sometimes what it takes to grab the reins of your life and become the person you were always meant to be.

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