Mirror, Mirror...

I look into the mirror and I see a single facet of myself.

I don't look like I did in my teens, or my twenties.

My shape is the same, but my features, my carriage, my outward aura, is different.

As we get older, as we continue to grow, not in height, but in experience, we are stretched and dented.

We are molded and compressed, and it shows on our bodies.

Things in reflection always seem different.

Such is the image of the person in the mirror.

She waves in three dimensions, she can smile back at me, or frown, or grimace or stand silently while tears roll down her cheeks.

I can see the appearance of her skin; pale, circles under her dark, dark eyes.

Wisps of hair curling about her ears and throat, the rest thickly held up with a tie.

I can see the memories floating across her face as she thinks to herself,

"Laughter. Tears. Pain. Pleasure. Euphoria. Terror. Pure Joy. All there. All leaving their marks on my soul."

I am still working on self-acceptance and love. I'll never be done working on it, and that's good, because what are we when we've nothing to work on?

Stagnation is the death of something...

My body is not what it was; it is MORE.

I don't always believe this with my whole being.

In fact, I'd struggle to say that my belief that 'I am more than I was,' is something entirely true; rather, it is of a dual nature: part truth, and part lie.

I am the same being, but I am also, drastically different than I was.

Right now I am working to get back towards my center.

To feel that my body is a home base that I can trust.

I stretch my limbs. I warm up. I dance in a different way now, though there are elements of the old, familiar and comfortable.

Some days I get hung up on numbers.
Weight.
Age.
Years.

The passing of time itself.

I wonder if I'll ever get back to my heart's home base.

I will, though.

Everything is temporary, and even though I am older, I still have most of my flexibility, and if I take care of myself and stay strong too, then I won't get hurt.

Perhaps I can reach the point where the numbers don't matter.

I hope so.

I am okay to be their captive temporarily, because I have my grounding influences, reassurances and check-points to keep me safe from obsession.

Safe from danger.

I do have introspective awareness enough to ask for help if I need it.

Today though, I focus on remembering the feeling of my feet on the floor; a firm delicious contact.

My body cascading through space and time.

My heart beating, my soul soaring.

I will be okay.

I will be better than I was, yet again.

That is the nature of time and wounds and healing; stronger than before, unless you break.

I've been broken, and I recovered.

My scars are stronger tissue than the un-marred parts.

So.

I will heed Maya Angelou, and continue to remind myself, that no matter the numbers, the difficulty, the pain or the joy,

"Still I rise."