The Mirror

The Mirror

 

I see the man in my bathroom mirror

Staring back at me

He looks somewhat familiar

But in my memory I cannot see.

 

Was he someone I knew in passing

Or was he a close friend?

Did I do something to upset him

To make our friendship end?

 

He hasn’t said a word to me

Nor even tried to smile

Just glares at me with bloodshot eyes

Now, for quite a while.

 

I’m afraid to ask him who he is

Or why it is he’s here

But his silence is so very loud

That’s all that he’s made clear.

 

I see disappointment in his eyes

I wonder what he thinks.

Now his face becomes clear to me

My heart stops and sinks.

 

I see the man in my bathroom mirror

Staring back at me

I still don’t know who he is,

But I know that man is me.

***********************************

It’s a hell of a lot easier to go to war than it is to come home from it.  It takes a while to adjust.  I think my that lack of being able to adjust lead me to my attempted suicide.  I further believe that coming back from war wasn’t the problem with me, as far as trying to figure out who I was.  Once a Soldier, always a Soldier.  I just don’t know who I am now anymore.  I think it’s the aftermath of surviving suicide that makes me question my identity or what defines me now.

Sometimes I feel that I have no idea who I am.  I am unrecognizable to myself. I used to be motivated.  I used to desire to work.  I used to have a plan.  I used to feel invincible, that I could conquer the world.  Now, most days, it’s a challenge to conquer getting out of bed in the morning.  While I know I’m improving daily, I’m still searching for who I am.  I’m finding pleasure in writing again and that is helping.  Too bad it doesn’t pay the bills.

Those of us struggling with this will eventually recognize the person we used to be, even if we don’t know who we are now.  It can be disturbing for a number of reasons.  Either the person we used to be did horrible things and we can’t face that, or the person we used to be was a lot better person than we are now and we can’t accept whom we’ve become. One way or the other, we are changing daily.  Good or bad.  I made my downslope already in my changes.  It’s a tough climb back up, and I know I will never be who I was, but I will be me again, whomever that may be.

I write because it’s therapeutic for me.  I share it in case it helps someone else.  Thank you for reading my story, my message.  I welcome your feedback.  Feel free to share if you think it will help someone.

Good day, God bless.

Dave

12 thoughts on “The Mirror”

  2. I, too, am listening. I knew you from your beginning. You were and still are someone’s son, someone’s spouse, someone’s Daddy. You are also one of His Holy Family. There are lots of us that can help define you. But you have to take the step to ask. There is no condemnation, no shift of the love we have for you. You need to “ask and receive” with those of us around you and of a Higher Father. Right now I give you silent prayers and praise for your words from your heart, mind and soul. When you are ready, find your needs through those who do honestly love you. With Love, Mom

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  3. Thank you for sharing. You might find readings on Post-Traumatic Growth interesting and inspiring like you have found in your writings. I so admire people such as you who take your healing to a new level. God bless and thank you for your service…vanessa

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  4. First, thank you for your service. My husband is a veteran and suffers from PTSD and major depression. Reach out. Find a friend. Another war buddy. Someone from the VA. A local church. I promise speaking to someone and having the bond you had with others while in will make a huge difference. Don’t give up. YOU ARE WORTH IT

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  6. Thanks for sharing.
    Your poem resonates with me, for different reasons. Mine are simply to do with age, which is scary enough for me.
    I can’t imagine your struggles but look forward to checking in on the honesty I already see in your blog….
    Ann

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  7. Your poem is great. I was recently diagnosed with PTSD. I was taken by surprised. I never imagined that it could be me, but as the doctor reviewed the diagnostic interview results, it was clear that the diagnosis was in the nose. I found your blog by your “likes” on mine. Something told me that your blog is special, so I pulled up a tab and opened your page and left it open until I felt strong enough to take a journey with your writing. This was my first reading of your posts, and I find your writing amazing. Thank you for sharing.

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