“And I don’t want to let go of my youth. There is such a beauty to innocence that I didn’t realize I had much more of it,
and I can feel myself losing more and more,
and it is a part of life, I know, and I am still so young, I know…”

by Bry LeBerthon

“Who’s in the Mirror?”

Fiction Based on a True True Loss and True Gain.

by Leanna Glenn Markham

This journal entry is inspired by true events. Some of the characters, names, businesses, incidents, and certain locations and events have been fictionalized for dramatic purposes. Any similarity to the name, character, or history of any person is entirely coincidental and unintentional.

Trigger Warning: our program often motivates people to discuss their trauma. If you find yourself feeling overwhelmed, please, take a step back to address emotional flashbacks and trauma before continuing to push yourself. If you are experiencing a medical emergency, call 911 or the National Suicide Hotline at (1-800) 273-8255.

I remember looking in the mirror one day,
at twelve or thirteen
with a distinct sense
of the loss of my innocence.
What had happened?
Nothing external,
not then.
Just an internal shift
that I bore within me
things, burdens, moods,
emotions, and sensations
not innocent.

I examined my face
as I had often done
wondering who
llved behind those
brown eyes.
Wondering what
it meant to be me.
To be.
How is it that I am
conscious of the
person in the mirror
and yet not?
It was a little trip
of my own I’d
take from time
to time.
It gave me a
physical wave,
like boating past
the smaller wakes
left by other crafts
and into deeper waters.

What did I do
as a result of
this discovery?
Not a thing.
Perhaps a bit
of self-condemnation.
But I had not yet
mastered that dark art
the way I later would.
Then again,
even when I came
to loathe myself,
I realized that
I liked myself
enough
to never want
to be anyone but me.

Yes, I envied
my illusions of
the lives others led.
Or coveted their hair
or figures,
even 20-20 vision.
But still, I wanted to be
Me.
With revisions.

Life offered
Revision after
revision of that
young me.
Some I chose,
with others,
I had no choice.

Now the me
In the mirror
sees the losses
and the gains.
And now I understood
why a family friend
always told me
not to make certain
faces,
or I’d get stuck
that way.
Laugh enough
and your face relaxes
nicely into smiles.
Furrow your brow
enough and
worry becomes
part of your look.

Perhaps the loss
of my sense of
innocence
gave me a
deeper
way of looking
into my life’s
mirror.
Excerpt
What did I do
as a result of
this discovery?
Not a thing.
Perhaps a bit
of self-condemnation.
But I had not yet
mastered that dark art
the way I later would.
Then again,
even when I came
to loathe myself,
I realized that
I liked myself
enough
to never want
to be anyone but me.