Mirror by Lynne Blackwell
Mirror
When you look in the mirror, what do you see?
Is it the same face that used to be?
Or do wrinkles and lines start telling the truth
of all that you did in your misspent youth.
The times that were “so happy” and made you feel glad…
or if you were honest, weren’t most of them bad?
The mask you wore to hide the tears of a clown.
No one really knowing what had gone down.
The rows, the fights - but odd happy times too.
Just sadly outnumbered by the other two.
So as you reflect on these “good old days”,
what are your memories? “What do you say?”
Do you regret the late nights? The laughter and beers?
Do you have fondness, or do you have tears?
Do you remember that child whose best friend was her ted?
The one who she cuddled when kissed in her bed,
or do you remember the girl so desperate to grow?
To be a true woman…who will actually know?
To be someone who is strong and can believe,
someone inwardly fighting to what she can be.
Memories are sweeter than dreams, so they say
but one looks backward and the other leads the way.
The past is where it should be, a platform to grow.
Learn from experience, treasure them but know
along the way we will be hurt, but true friends will be there
to help disperse bad memories and show that they care,
to write our tomorrow’s and to laugh and to cry.
Our chosen family who truly stand by,
Those who when you’re drunk or stupid at 3am,
The ones who get in that taxi to show that they care.
Remember yesterday and where it should go.
A flashback to then but how great you can grow.
Go into the future with a smile and a grin.
Think of those who hurt you and say “ha, you didn’t win”.
I’ve blossomed, I’ve been gifted - with my family and special ears.
Those true friends in my time who help conquer my fears.
For S,M,G and my special bestest K,
You have nurtured me and strengthened me but now I must say
I am scared of the ticking time bomb and memories that get
in the future of our tomorrows…and yet
we will still get those messages from those who only text or call
for a gossip or catch up when they’ve nothing better at all
to say “they’re so worried” or “you’re on my mind”.
In honesty, people like that just aren’t kind.
True honest feelings, albeit from family or friends
They never give up it, it has no end
Life asks for nothing but reminds you not to be scared
so look forward - after all, our cards are prepared.
I’m lucky, so lucky with all that I have
Husband, daughters and dogs that are mad
It has taken a true “kick up the ass”
To actually realise that each day that does pass
cannot be replaced, swapped or renewed.
Where you go from today, it is up to you .
I was once told that writing is cathartic.
So, maybe I won’t be the next poet Laureate but writing ‘Mirror’ has been just that for me.
It is, essentially, a piece of writing that is about me.
I don’t actually feel alone but I do suffer with mental illness - but for how long have I? Does it start from when the hurt began? Or from when before? From what I blocked out? Luckily, mental health is no longer taboo so I can talk about this now - THANK GOD!
I really hope that in reading ‘Mirror’ someone, somewhere will go “yes I can relate to that, that’s me.”
In writing this I have given away more about myself more than I would normally ever do. People see me as wacky/fun/bonkers/eccentric but few people have asked what led me to this place.
Having had a professional career, I felt completely driven down by those I worked for. Nothing was ever enough good enough, no matter how many hours I gave away (and to, what felt like, the detriment of being a good wife/mother/friend.)
I know that you won’t know me when you read this piece - but hopefully you’ll learn a bit about my story. And, even than that, I hope it will be a story that you can relate to - that you feel a bit seen by.
In honesty, my love of chatting and people in general really does make me feel that we all have a story or tale to tell. So, this is mine.
I’m a middle aged women, married to a wonderful man. We have gifted, talented, open-hearted daughters. I am loved by those who love me - and that is what matters.
Written by Lynne Blackwell