Wednesday, April 25, 2012

{imperfect prose} seeing rightly

I just want things to be normal.

At least, that's what I think when I'm most vulnerable and scared and down.  
Like when I've taken refuge in our teeny shower stall a little too long and I'm burning lava hot yet I don't want to step out of the rushing water that drowns out the droning in my ears, in my house, in my life.  I reluctantly step out and slowly turn, stealing a glance at the clouded mirror that hides my image behind a wall of wet.
I don't see me.
I stand there, naked and dripping, huddling my body around a towel, willing it to heal my deepest darkness.
But still, I don't see me.

Slowly, the mirror begins to drip, revealing jagged blurry pieces of my face, like exaggerated tear marks in negative.
I lurch towards the glass and hastily wipe it down, unable to stand the distortion.

And I see me.

Wet, stringy hair and a face that won't let go of its adolescent skin, despite it's aging eyes and I know, perhaps now more ever, that I will never really see me, will I?

Because these eyes need correcting, in so many more ways than one, and if left alone, they can't see rightly.

So I turn away...there's always this great turning away...and I rush to put on my clothes because I feel too vulnerable if I don't.

And then I sink onto the bed and remind myself to breathe into one moment, then the next.
And I sigh.

And then I remember...

"It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye."
-Antoine de Saint Exuperay

And I ask, how does one see with their heart?


  1. A difficult question: how does one see with their heart? For me, part of the answer is letting go of what I see with the eyes, knowing that the visible will all eventually fade away; only the invisible will last.

    I just want things to be normal, too. And they're not. I'm trying to embrace a new normal; it's coming.

  2. you listen, hard to do in all the noise we bring into our lives...and a skill we have to develop over much untruth is sold to us in all the mediums...but there is a truth underneath...

  3. I want things to be normal. But what is normal? Isn't it different for everyone? For me it's that I've always wanted to fit in somewhere. But things for me are so complicated. I also want to be liked just for me. But because I've felt so different, to the extreme sometimes, acceptance seems so far away. Even though, for the most part, my life is like a lot of others. But that writing was like it was just for me. Thanks Holly.

  4. Hi Holly. I stopped over from emily's place. I like what Brian said above. A big part of learning to see rightly began with learning to listen--to listen for the voice of the Good Shepherd, the One who said we would know His voice above all the lies. The other practice that helps me is that of gratitude. Thanks to Ann Voskamp and her lovely gratitude community, I began to learn to train my eyes to see glimpses of God's goodness when I was afraid darkness might just overwhelm me.

    Abundant grace to you in teaching your little ones at home. Not an easy task--trust me. I know.

  5. oh friend. such a powerful write. thank you--for speaking from the heart. i'd love to re-post this at my eating disorder blog sometime; would you let me? if so, can you email it to me at thank you holly. xo