Uncovering Me

The wall covering on the mirror was not even. It was then in front of me, a stranger in my own person in my own image. Every other day, I would get up and brush my teeth, splash some water on my face, the usual routines I performed but today was different. Today, I could tell it was time to go in and dig deeper.

My name is Lily. I am twenty-five years old, and I have spent most of my life in different roles. As a Daughter. As a Friend. As a Worker. But who am I without any of these masks on? I felt out of place in that ever-increasing chaos of wants. The real me had to be found.

I put on my coat and stepped out. The sharp cool air hit my face, instantly pacifying me. I walked down the street as if in a trance, allowing my feet to lead me wherever. The city thrummed with activity. People dashed past me, engrossed in their own tales. I wanted to search for my own.

I resumed my journey. Children were giggling as they ran around. It warmed my heart. I remembered my childhood, spent with bare necessities and fantasies of scaling walls. I took a position on a chair as I tried to remember her. What happened to that girl?

I reached for my phone, unlocking it, and going to the notes application. ‘I wonder who I am’ I typed. It was a daunting task, nevertheless, I pressed on. I wrote more or less about my aspirations, my anxiety, the things that brought me joy. I found out how much I had suppressed. I had been so busy trying to please everyone else that I had forgotten the things that I cared for most.

As I wrote, a woman approached. She had gray hair and her smile was welcoming. “What have you been working on?” she asked.

“Merely a few ideas,” I replied feeling a little bit shy.

“Thoughts can be powerful. They reveal us.”

Her speech lingered. I gestured, feeling a flicker of encouragement. “What do you call yourself?”

“Margret. And your identity?”

“Lily.”

“Glad to meet you Lily. I guess you are headed somewhere.”

I laughed. “Seems like you are claiming that.”

“Every Vacation begins with a single step. Vanishing,” she voiced and walked away. Her enhancement awoke something within me. I had to push further.

I paced around the terminal inhaling the fresh air the packed room lacked. I wanted to discover more than just my mind. I wanted to live. I decided to do something new. Something daring.

I signed up for a pottery class. The idea frightened me. I had never done anything of this sort. Would I be good enough? But I was tired of the what ifs. I wanted to conquer the unknown.

The first class was intense. One of the instructors who introduced himself as Leo was very enthusiastic about us. “Pottery is about exploration. Do not fear making mistakes,” such was the contagious energy of the man.

I watched as people worked with their clay. I felt out of place, my hands clumsy. However, when I started kneading the clay, It felt as if I had made a cut. It was messy, but it was my mess. Every piece was a reflection of my thoughts, my emotions.

Time went and in a course, with every lesson I gained more. I began to enjoy the –handle. I created bowls and mugs. More importantly, the artist inside me emerged. Clay became and still is a reflection of my life- easy to shape and unique.

One… let’s say, evening after a lesson I encountered a fellow student; Sara. She was full of life and had a contagious smile. We became close because of our experiences, both hard and easy. “There was a time when I was bothered by the need to belong, she admitted. “These days, I am proud of my eccentricities.”

Those words struck a chord. I realized I had wasted years trying to mold myself into a shape I did not even like. I wanted to be proud of my uniqueness.

With time, even as our friendship blossomed, I grew bolder. We roamed the town inert to local delicacies, visiting galleries and attending music events. Piece by piece, every activity dismantled the walls I had put up. I was acquiring the skill of being liberated.

I was standing on the roof of my loft building one night, gazing up at the stars. Below was the glimmering city. I had a sense of belonging. I didn’t need to fit in; I simply needed to be myself.

I took my mobile out and I text again. “I am creative. I Am Enough. I am growing.” I printed as the above text.

With every letter, something was taken away. I was shedding the skin of myself that I have worn for too long. It was nice.

As I stared at the endless sky that was full of stars, I came to a realization that self-exploration can be a journey and not an end. I was no longer simply Lily, acting out roles. I was becoming the actual me.

I smiled into the darkness. I was in the process of revealing myself, and I couldn’t wait to find out where this journey would take me.