Mirror Mirror On The Wall

The other day when I saw a photo of me playing with our dog Wilbur, I was momentarily surprised to notice the extent of my vitiligo. During summer months, areas where I have remaining skin colour tan, creating greater contrast between pigmented and unpigmented areas.

It occurred to me that being startled to see my vitiligo in a photo is a result of having programmed myself years ago to avoid looking in mirrors. At 45, I'm thankful to no longer be as emotionally handicapped by vitiligo as I was at 19 when it first began and through some of my 20s. Though I wish I could more freely enjoy the outdoors on sunny days without all sorts of sun gear, I recognize and give thanks for all that living with vitiligo has taught me.

But getting back to the the thought on mirrors - because it was exceedingly difficult for me to process my ever-changing appearance through my 20s, I avoided looking closely at myself in mirrors. You might wonder how this is possible with mirrors being virtually everywhere. It's quite simple to do, really, you keep your gaze off yourself while in the bathroom and don't turn on the lights unless absolutely necessary. Our younger son has asked me on a few occasions why I never turn the light on when I'm brushing my teeth, shaving, and washing up - he continues to find it amusing and a sight of curiosity to see me shave and clean up in the dark. I tell him the truth, that it's an old habit that came out of being emotionally distressed about my vitiligo as a young adult.

Noticing the extent of my vitiligo in that recent photo made me think about when mirrors were invented, and what life was like when humans could only examine their appearance via their own reflection in water or perhaps in polished metals.

Historians generally agree that the first rudimentary mirrors used by humans were likely developed in the 1400s. In 1835, a German chemist developed a process for applying a thin layer of silver to clear glass, and once his technique was improved upon, it wasn't long before mass production of mirrors created a world where humans began identifying with their physical appearance.

I find this fascinating, that for most of human history, people went through life without a clear idea of what they looked like. Their sense of self - their identity - had very little to do with their physical features. Rather, I would imagine their identity was tied to the people they spent time with, the work they did, where they lived, and of course, what they thought and felt. Imagine such an existence for a moment and compare it to what we have today where technology has allowed our phones to become mirrors that record images and videos that can be shared with the world in a few taps - we can even add whiskers that move with our noses and animal ears that move on top of our heads!

Today, there is an epidemic of what psychotherapists call "the worried well" - people whose basic needs for survival are more than being met, but who are handicapped by depression and anxiety. Some might think that this is a stretch, but I wonder if widespread adoption of mirrors was ground zero, the harbinger of an epidemic of partial paralysis from issues related to self-actualization. If we weren't hyper-aware of what we physically look like, would we be as anxious, vain, jealous, petty, afraid, and covetous as we can be at times?

I think it's pretty clear that the less we focus on ourselves and the more we put our energy toward being of service to others, the more fulfilled we feel. This doesn't require that we neglect ourselves, only that we strive to value relationships and our contributions to this world more than we value how we look, or in some cases of social media use, how we appear to look. This isn't a manifesto being written in a cabin off grid. We are all living in the same matrix, and I am merely wondering out loud.

When our boys were tiny, I used to think about how they would react to one day realizing that my skin is different than most. Would they be embarrassed or ashamed of my appearance? Would they feel bad that others might make fun of them because of me?

One day when our older son Joshua was 8, he and I were standing around before one of his tennis classes and another boy came up and asked me why my skin is the way it is. I explained it to him like I always do with kids, giving the analogy of how some animals have different colours, and how it's the same with me, that it doesn't hurt, that I just look different. After the boy nodded and moved on, Joshua sidled up to me from the side, and without a word, wrapped his little arm around my shoulder and gave me a good squeeze.

That was the moment when I realized that I didn't have to fear our boys having a harder lot in life because of my appearance. It was the moment when I realized that both of our sons have real warmth in their hearts, and that they will attract plenty of goodness with their caring spirits as they walk through this world. It was the moment that marked an emotional turning point in my journey with vitiligo, the moment when I took a huge leap forward in feeling free of it. Healed by our 8-year old son's heart and his little left arm.