Beyond the Surface: What the Mirror Truly Sees

We often think of a mirror as a cold, honest judge. We look into it to fix our hair, to adjust our clothes, or to sigh at the tired lines under our eyes. But as a mirror, I see far more than skin and bone. I see the quiet movements of the soul that no one else notices.

For a long time, the woman who stood before me was like a shadow. She moved with careful hesitation, rehearsing her “calm face” before the door clicked open. She looked at her reflection and saw only what she had been told she was — too much, not enough, never quite right. I watched her swallow her tears so quickly that her eyes stayed red for hours.

But lately, something has changed.

The transformation didn’t arrive all at once. It began with a single look — not a glance, but a meeting of her own eyes. She stopped hunting for flaws and started searching for the fire she was told she no longer had.

Now, when the house is still, I see her stand taller. She doesn’t just endure the silence; she fills it with her presence. When she writes her poetry, the soft glow of the screen reflects in her eyes — a light that belongs only to her.

To the world, she may look like a woman simply moving through her daily life. But in the silver of the glass, I see a revolution. I see someone discovering that being called a “villain” for choosing peace is not punishment — it is power.

Your mirror is not there to judge your beauty. It is there to remind you that you are still here, still standing, and still stronger than any storm.

Comments

Living in a World Full of Demotivators

Some days it feels like life is just one long test of patience. Everywhere I turn, there’s someone ready to remind me of what I can’t do. They don’t always shout it out loud — sometimes it’s in their silence, their smirk, the way they walk away when I talk about my dreams. I try to carry hope like a candle, but around demotivators, the wind is constant. One small comment, one careless laugh, and the flame trembles. It hurts more when it comes from people I trusted to believe in me. Family, friends, the ones who should lift me up — instead, they make me doubt myself. Living in this kind of world feels heavy. You start questioning everything: Am I really capable? Am I foolish for trying? Should I just stop here? That’s what demotivators do — they plant doubt like seeds, and if I’m not careful, those seeds grow faster than courage. But even in this noise, I’ve realized something. Their words don’t come from knowing me better. Most times, they speak from their own fears, their own li...

Life Surrounded by Demotivators: Learning to Breathe in Heavy Air

Life isn’t always filled with cheerleaders clapping for us. More often, it feels like a crowd of demotivators stand in the front row, arms folded, waiting to remind us why we can’t, why we shouldn’t, why we’ll fail. Some are loud voices from outside — people who question, criticize, or belittle. Others are quieter but heavier: our own doubts echoing inside. Being surrounded by demotivators is like carrying invisible weights. You wake up with good intentions, maybe even a spark of energy, and then comes the remark — “That won’t work,” or “Others are better than you.” Suddenly, that spark dims. It’s not always about dramatic insults either. Sometimes it’s the constant small dismissals, the rolling of eyes, the silence when you expected support. These moments pile up, and before you know it, they’ve convinced you to stop trying. The hardest part is that demotivators can be people we care about. A friend who never celebrates our wins. A relative who constantly compares. A workplace t...

When Yelling Breaks the Home: A Mother and Child’s Silent Pain

When a Child Watches His Mother Break The walls of a home are meant to hold love, laughter, and safety. But for some, those walls echo with raised voices, cutting words, and humiliation that leaves scars you can’t see. Living with a narcissistic husband often feels like standing in the middle of a storm—never knowing when the next thunderclap will shatter the air. For a wife, it is an endless battle between dignity and despair. For a child, it is pure confusion and silent suffering. When a husband yells, his words don’t just pierce the woman he targets—they ripple through the small ears listening from the corner of the room. A six-year-old child does not yet have the language to name “emotional abuse” or “narcissism.” What he knows is fear. What he feels is helplessness. What he learns, tragically, is that love can sound like anger and that family can feel unsafe. Humiliation is not only a wound to the wife’s spirit but also a shadow that falls across her child’s innocence. Every...

Vismaya creation

Search This Blog