The Man in the Mirror

I am getting ready to do two things: make picture boxes to hang on the living room wall, and make scrapbooks for my children so that they can look at the changes in their lives and looks.
Each photograph has captured memories. My ink drawing allows me to see myself in perspective. The mirror seems to be magical in some ways, but it also becomes an appropriate metaphor for our lives.

The man outside the mirror is looking at the image of the physical person that he once was, thin and hansom. When I look through my collection of pictures I see how my body looked and various stages of my life. When I look at my body I see that I am not the physical man that I used to be,

What I can't see in the mirror are the changes inside of me. I lost my job at Daybreak on the fourteenth day of February 2009. I spent my last year there teaching students who abused drugs or alcohol or both. They came to live in the inpatient treatment center for an average of forty five days. They came because their addiction was ruining their lives, because the drugs and/or alcohol had changed both their physical bodies and the persons inside them.

Many of them had been abused physically, sexually, or verbally or all those ways. Drugs ans/or alcohol eased their pain, but their addiction took control of their lives, took away all of the good things that they should have enjoyed as they grew up. In that sense they stopped developing when they started taking drugs, Their chronological age may have been sixteen, but their developmental age might be twelve or ten, or even eight years old. Their behavior matched their developmental age. Most of them had a problem with anger and a lot of pain.

I was verbally abused by my stepfather throughout my high school and college years, and even after I got married and left home. Three other things affected the man inside me. My parents were divorced when I was eleven years old. My mother remarried when I was thirteen and I had to leave the my home in Tacoma, leave all of my friends, and move to Bellevue. My father died of cancer, Hogkins disease, when I was fifteen. I was angry with my parents because they got divorced, even though they still loved each other. I was angry with my mother because she got married again two years after the divorce and my stepfather wouldn't allow me to take my dog, Taffy, with me, and Taffy was put to sleep, died. I was angry with God because God let my father die. I was angry the man inside me was wounded and full of pain.

It took me many years to heal and to understand the man inside my body. Some of the wounds were very painful to deal with and it took along time to find the courage with face them and find a healing, I had good days and bad days and it seemed that I had no control over them It took time to discover how much that God loves me.

The man inside of me had to deal with the fear that the people he loved would abandon him. They proved that I was wrong by standing with me, and loving me. Love is the most important ingredient in healing. They gave me the hope and courage to continue my healing journey, and most of all that were willing to forgive me,

The physical man that I am has been affected by age, and that part of me wasn't happy about growing old. The man inside me has grown and changed and he is a much better person. Most of my days are good days, but occasionally I feel sadness and shame.

All things are possible if we have patience, faith, hope, love and the courage to persevere. There are no instant healings or quick fixes. We have to choose our healing everyday. It's hard, painful work, but it's worth it.

Blessings for you as you continue your journey,

Bear