I couldn’t stand mirrors. Truly, if one was nearby I’d avert my eyes to avoid the acute pain I’d feel when I looked at myself.
Even catching my reflection on a car window, that I happened to walk by, could be unbearable.
This was back in my late teens, when insecurities about my appearance were at a toxic level.
I refused to take pictures (which is why sadly there are very few of me as a teen) and went through
phases were I would cover up my body in layers of clothing as a way to hide.
I was painfully shy, and I found any assignment that required me to speak publicly terrifying.
I would’ve preferred to write a hundred essays over doing the dreaded “show & tell” or a presentation of any
kind.
And on the rare occasion when my voice was recorded, listening to it literally made me cringe.
For a long time, I lived in the background because any sort of spotlight frightened me.
Fast forward
several years and I became a 7th grade teacher, in the “spotlight” so to speak all the time. I presented in conferences giving talks in front of educators.
