Who are you?
Do you have the balls to find out?
Once upon a time I was a quiet subservient girl. I was pretty, intelligent, funny, inquisitive but I kept my head bowed.
I hid my identity behind book covers and knitting needles.
I got a cat. She was the only one who ever understood me.
Then I left my ex husband. The perceived source of my subservient misery. I thought I was stronger.
I struggled for a while because I didn’t really know who I was.
I sought identity in my next partner. Vinnie. He wouldn’t give it to me.
He forced me again and again to confront myself. To be honest with myself. He held a mirror up to me during my ugliest moments.
I hated it. Hated my reflection and I took it out on him. Endless conversations, excuses, defensive snipes and passive aggression. And still he held up that mirror.
I confronted myself time after time until I saw it.
All the fucks I should never have given.
All the lies I had told myself.
All the things I believed I wasn’t.
All the worth I didn’t have.
All the times I let people treat me like mud.
Like bird shit hitting the windscreen of a fast car.
I saw myself. Clearly. Understood what made me this way. The reflections stopped making me recoil.
The quest was never about who I am.
We are always someone. When we say we don’t know who we are, really its because we don’t like who we are. Finding out or admitting it is actually a bit too painful.
When I started to see my reflections I would fight long and hard to dispel them. To excuse them and ultimately to dismiss them.
We’re all experts at lying to ourselves.
It’s not until you are willing to actually look at the reflections. Even the ugly ones. That you can make meaningful changes.
It’s like that one selfie we all take and delete as soon as we can because — OMG, that was, like, not my best angle:
Yeah we’ve all been there.
Until you look at and accept your true reflections. Ugly ones too. All the ‘meaningful changes’ in your life are just plasters. They’ll fall off. Fast. Plasters don’t fix things, they just help stop tiny grazes from getting infected. But how deep is the wound? How big a plaster do you need?
You are already someone — have you got the balls to look that someone in the face?
My name is Kat, nice to kinda meet you.
I’m here to bear all in the hopes of helping others.
Even when that means adding cringe worthy photos to my post.
Anywaaay. Thanks for reading!
Leave your thoughts in the comments and join me every Tuesday, Thursday and Sunday for a new post.
Want to know more about my sordid past and how I met Vinnie:
I’ve put off writing this for a while. Some things are hard to be honest about.medium.com
Or here’s an outline of my life story framed by my relationship with food: