The Mirror

I can't help but think about how far I have come in these few short months here in Spain. I am reminded of who I used to be and I compare her to the person I see standing in the mirror, in my wonderful host mom's bathroom, in this gorgeous house, in the most brilliant city, in gorgeous Spain.
I hardly recognize the person who stares at me in this window when I think about the messy-haired, sloppily-dressed, tired-looking shell of a human that once stood where I stand.
I also think about distinct moments that were very, extremely low. I compare those moments to when I am the most happy here.

When we were in Portugal this past weekend, I felt the most content, happy, at ease I think I have ever felt in my entire life. I wasn't especially elated, or excited about anything in particular, but nothing was pressing on my mind, nothing was sticking out as a thorn in my side or and there was nothing I needed to be particularly worried about. I sipped on fresh fruit juice and stared out at the Atlantic Ocean, squinting to see a place I came from back in January. The ocean that day was a mirror of my life. It showed me blemishes, it showed me the hair standing up, the food in my teeth.
Of course I could not see Michigan, or my house, or my family, but memories seeped in, squeezed their way into my happy place. My mood was not brought down when I was reminded of times that were the opposite of serenity and joy, but I was just the more appreciative of the people I have surrounded myself with here, of the choices I have made to feel happiness, and of the life I have begun to build.

I recall a long car ride. I had to say goodbye to my best friend who pulled me from a very vulnerable and dark place. She shook me and all but carried me to her car. She listened as I spoke at her. She stuck it out with me when I had nothing positive to say about myself or about my general outlook. She defended me when I dripped with negativity, when I said things I shouldn't have said. She sat with me on her kitchen floor. She held me while I slept (even against my will, because her snoring is horrendous). When I had to say goodbye to her, I knew it would be difficult. I didn't look back as the driver and I pulled away and onto the road that would lead me back to a place I had desperately needed to escape from just three days prior.

I remember this as I stared out, looking past the ocean, looking beyond the sky.

My head bounced on the window as we drove along, rain (of course it was raining) dripped down the glass, the moon poked in and out behind the somber clouds. I remember the feeling of running out of tears, not wanting to speak, considering opening the door and not holding on. I remember coming home to an empty apartment, one that was at one time full to the brim with love and passion.
I remember the mirror; the look on the face of the girl who was too cowardly to even look me in the eye.
I remember sleeping alone, with the window open, the rain leaving a pool on the carpet. I remember not caring. I remember not wanting to wake up, ever. I remember the effort it took to breath, the ton of bricks on my chest, on my stomach.

This is what I thought of as I sat in Lisbon with friends that I know I will keep for the rest of my life. These memories are the ones that occasionally creep up at the worst and most inconvenient times. These are the memories that allow me to appreciate the happy, the brilliant, the amazing experiences I have had and will create here and in my future life someday.

Lisbon was amazing. I love that I have the ability to freely travel to different countries, to see different and new cultures, and to be a citizen of the world. It still amazes me everyday that I am here, that I am the person that I am, living in the place that I'm living. I love every piece of my life on this very day.


These are the memories that allow me to see just how far I have come, about who I am no longer.

These memories make me feel weak because they existed at one point.
They also make me feel strong that they are simply memories now and no longer reality.

But, after all, these memories are just memories now; a reflection of what once was.