My house growing up:
For some reason my mum decided wall to wall mirrors were a good decorating idea. Literally every available wall had a floor to ceiling mirror stuck to it. You couldn't go anywhere in that house without coming face to face with your own reflection.

When my parents separated it was really hard on my Mum. She seemed to lose herself completely and as the years continued she only got worse. I watched as she became more and more detached from everything and everyone around her. She became anorexic what felt to me almost overnight. Those mirrors I feel only contributed to her feeling uncomfortable in her own skin and fueled her desire to lose weight by any means possible.
It wasn't until I had grown up and moved away that a few of my relatives told me they hated coming to visit us because of those mirrors. That all the confidence and self-esteem they felt as they stood in front of their own mirror before they left their house each morning vanished when they looked in ours. Perhaps they weren't put up straight or there were just to many for anyone to be comfortable with, whatever the reason, they showed people this warped view of themselves that over time became all they could see. A view only enhanced by the general depressive mood throughout the house . For me, I struggle to look at myself in the mirror. I don't wear make-up. The idea of staring at myself for that long to apply it terrifies me. I have one mirror in my home which I share with my two boys. I get dressed, brush my hair and then I glance quickly in the mirror to make sure I'm not leaving the house a complete mess and that's it. That's all I can do. On the extremely rare occasion I do end up in front of the mirror for more than my usual ten'ish seconds, I feel angry and ugly and this overpowering, all consuming hatred towards myself that never goes away.

I may not live in a house full of mirrors anymore but that doesn't mean anything. I just carry them around with me, like so many other painful things I just can't put down.