Mirror, Mirror On The Wall

Mirrors are important to me. Dr E passed me a mirror and asked me to look into it I was happy to oblige. I noticed my lips looked full and inviting, my complexion was clear and my eyes bright. I smoothed down my eyebrows with a finger and adjusted my hair slightly and then again until I was satisfied. I looked a while longer and content I looked great I lowered the mirror. Dr E asked me who I saw when I looked in the mirror. I frowned and told him I see myself. He asked how many mirrors I have at home. I explained there was one in every room and two in the master bedroom and the bathroom. He asked why so many. I said it ensured that I could always check my appearance so I always looked smart and attractive. Plus they make rooms look bigger don’t they?

He invited me to look into the mirror once again. I was happy to oblige. He said, “I want you to keep looking into the mirror until I tell you to stop.” I nodded by way of confirmation and sat with the mirror in my hands as I looked at my reflection. I kept looking and Dr E said nothing. I glanced at him and he instructed me to keep my gaze on the mirror and keep it there. I did as he instructed and continued to look seeing myself staring back at me. The minutes passed and still I continued to look into the mirror and Dr E remained silent. Suddenly, I threw the mirror to one side as I emitted a strangled gasp. It hit the floor and shattered. Dr E did not jump or start.

“Why did you do that?” he asked in his usual measured tone.

“I didn’t like what was looking back at me,” I blurted out before I made for the door.

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6 thoughts on “Mirror, Mirror On The Wall”

      1. No, I’m not crying, YOU’RE crying.

        I hope by now you can see that an empathetic person sees right through your eyes to that boy, and not only doesn’t run away screaming, but wants to protect that boy and help him feel safe enough to grow into his real self.

        Which is what he deserved from the start.

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  1. HG: the other day I got the Narc to stare into my eyes, hand on my heart, for a good five minutes. He looked with no emotion but then, after a while, he started sticking his tongue out at me, crossing his eyes and couldn’t hold my gaze. Just like a little boy. Could the issue be that some sort of trauma happened and crystallised the Narc at that certain age, impeding the formation of his/her empathic abilities?

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