My Mother’s Eyes.

When I was in high school, I wrote a poem about my mother’s eyes.

I talked about the story they told. The heartache and regret I saw there but also, the strength. I love my mother dearly. And her eyes are beautiful.

Emotionless photo of author

I took this selfie to test out my new camera and, though I knew I looked like a hot mess, I didn’t expect to see my mother’s eyes looking back at me.

I’ve been through things in my life that no one should ever have to experience and, probably because of that, I’ve struggled with depression and anxiety.

I often see myself as weak. Because I feel weak. But my mother reminded me of something about myself recently.

During one of our heart-to-hearts, where I was doubting myself, my mother said to me, “The Kristy I remember was pretty fearless.” And she’s right.

As a young girl, I wasn’t afraid of anything and as teenager I was pretty bold. When I decided to do something, I did it. Even if that meant risking my own safety or getting into trouble.

I needed to be reminded that behind my mental illness, there is a brave spirit. I needed to remember I am strong. Stronger than my challenges and my fears.

That young girl is still there, begging me to let her take the reigns. Telling me that we can do this. We can do anything.

I’m thankful for my mother. Her gentle nature, her strength and her wisdom have been a compass in my own journey.

As I age and mature, I begin to recognize many of her traits in myself. I look in the mirror and I see her eyes but when I turn my gaze inward, I see her spirit.

I love you Mom.