Ever get a glimpse of yourself in the mirror and realise that you need to change? Yesterday I wore a scarf, and it looked fine until I put on a jacket. Then, the scarf hung down and looked out of proportion. I took it off and tied it differently.
While we’re waiting for the swell to roll in again for the World Surf League, surfing conversation abounds. Our local high school accepts students from around the country to develop surfing skills alongside their academic work.
One method for improving technique is videoing the students surfing and playing it back to them. They see their own technique and the areas that need refinement from a different perspective. They might think that they’re balanced and holding a strong stance, but when they see themselves, they realise that their stance needs tweaking. This is what growth looks like.
I watched an unrelated surfer on Instagram. His behind stuck out the side of the board when he popped up. He put his board beside a wall and kept practising. Every time he stuck out past the board, the wall knocked him off balance. He practised again and again until he could pop up centred on the board. That is intentional growth.
Some of us dismiss the versions of ourselves that are still learning and growing, or we dismiss who we used to be. Others honour and integrate the characteristics that sustained them through hard times as instrumental to who they are now. They value old versions of themselves, even the less than glamourous ones, for the roles they played when they didn’t know any different.
So many of us compartmentalise our memories or aspects of who we are. We behave one way with one group and a different way with another. This is a normal part of growth, but what do we do with the uncomfortable bits?
We change our behaviour to feel accepted. We hide the parts of ourselves that we think of as unacceptable. When we’ve experienced embarrassment, we might put that memory in a compartment and lock it away. Separating ourselves into compartments devalues parts of who we are.
In saying that, we wrap a bandage around our finger, our knee or our ankle when we’ve injured it. The act of protection and separation itself is part of the road to healing. But if we leave that bandage on, the muscles atrophy and we lose the use of that area. It takes targeted exercise to build up the muscle again.
It is wise to create space when we’re hurting, but to stay stuck in that place of separation and compartmentalisation stunts healing.
I think of two dear ladies I know who locked their grief away. One of them ended up living locked in that grief-filled space when she got older, the other one got so good at locking her memories away, she couldn’t remember anything.
Catching a glimpse of ourselves from an unflattering angle generates different responses in different people.
It might motivate change. This could be a simple upskill, like tying your scarf differently instead of changing everything about yourself; like putting your board beside a wall and practising something new until you get it, like choosing kindness instead of a sharp word.
Perhaps you do actually need to change your outfit. You’ve been mowing the lawn and you’re about to go to a black-tie dinner. Rather than being embarrassed about the lawnmowing clothes, you can acknowledge that they were for that particular task.
We can change. We can draw from a different source, play a different game with a different play book. We can learn how to balance or notice something to work on. Sometimes we do take off the old and put on the new. That doesn’t change who we’re created to be, it marks the beginning of a new season.
Catching an unflattering glimpse can cause a wave of shame, guilt, humiliation… you name it. Your response is to hide it away. You might even reach for something that dulls your pain, whatever it might be. This doesn’t deal with what you saw, it merely buries the feelings. Hiding leads to becoming less yourself. It involves minimising, devaluing, and undermining.
Even surgery doesn’t separate us from our shadow. We can’t always see it, but when light shines from the right angle, there it is again. Hiding it or turning off the light, is a temporary fix at best. Light actually helps you to see what you’re dealing with. It is easier to work with good lighting than to work in murky dim.
If you react like this, you may think your shame is worse than anyone around you, that you are alone. Can I encourage you to seek help on this one? Find a safe person, a professional, or simply pray. Reach out. Sometimes hurt runs deep and requires someone with skill to help along the healing process.
Amazingly, some who have journeyed along unbearable roads emerge from their experience to help others. That thing that you glimpsed, that does not have to be the end of your story.
That unflattering angle can cause yet others to try and separate themself from the reflection they saw. Denial or separation is part of a process, but it is not the whole thing. As we mature, we become more who we are. You are here for a purpose. What does that reflection point to? What do you want to separate from? Is it an old habit or a persona you don’t recognise anymore? What would acknowledging that part of yourself do?
Everything you have gone through, every part of your story makes you who you are today. If you see a glimpse of an attitude you don’t like or a survival strategy you’d never use today, you can acknowledge its part in your story and choose to respond differently.
You can take off and separate yourself from behaviours, attitudes and offences, those things are not you. But you are created unique. Without you, we are the poorer for it. The opposite of separation and fragmentation is wholeness, entirety, integrity. Healing may leave scars, yet you become whole. Integrity looks like someone who can be trusted whatever the circumstance. They’re not unpredictable, triggered by hurt, or underhanded when the door is closed. For someone who is fragmented, they can’t fathom a person who has integrity because they can’t see a reflection as they look at them.
When you see that glimpse, how will you respond to the realisation that something is out of proportion? Seeing a flaw is not a bad thing, it means that you can change. You might cringe when you see it, yet if you choose to change, it becomes an inspirational part of your story that gives others hope – probably not the outcome that first springs to mind when you catch that glimpse, but true none the less.
