by Georgia Stewart

Created on: December 13, 2009   Last Updated: December 17, 2009

She thoughtfully gazes back at me, the woman I've known for many years. Her face is the same on the surface as when she was a young woman, in that it's the same shape and colour and still has long dark hair, and yet looking deeper it shows signs of aging and of suffering. Her struggles have been mine and yet the eyes that show a certain steeliness, composure and strength are new to me. The expression of fear and dread that was reflected in the mirror and was my companion for many long years seems to have faded out of existence, though it surfaces occasionally still.

Memories flicker behind those eyes, of syringes, heroin bubbling on spoons and collapsed veins and yet they no longer stir up feelings of either longing or horror, only a sense of victory and relief that it's all over. She was tried and tested in the flames but wasn't burnt; instead she was refined, like silver. It was necessary for her to learn to be strong so that she'd survive the next battle, the one that exceeds all of the previous ones and demands so much more of her. The one she and I are going through now.

ME/Chronic Fatigue syndrome is utterly merciless and is a lonely disease because there's no understanding or cure as yet. I look in the mirror and remind the thin, slightly haggard and tired face that stares back that I almost ended my life last year. The reflection doesn't flinch but with blazing eyes reminds me that I'm still here and that I don't feel suicidal now. In fact, that the years of iron control over diet and hours spend pouring over herbal encyclopedias are paying off and my health is slowly returning.

I'm grateful to that familiar face in the mirror because without her I would have been lost a long time ago! Sometimes she's such a strict and stern task master and I think she'll drive me so hard that I'll fall down dead with exhaustion but I never do, I simply keep going because she won't allow me to stop.

Who is she, this other me, whose stern, serene reflection's always there whenever I seek her? She never lets me wallow in self pity for too long and always reminds me to laugh and see the bright side of life. She tells me that I can walk on water, climb mountains and do anything I wish to do. The amazing thing is that she's right, even when I tell myself she's wrong!

I love that slightly lined face and the few grey hairs at the temples because I never imagined that I’d make it past 20, then past 40, yet here I am approaching 46, incredibly. And it’s all because the face in the mirror never allowed me to accept defeat and repeatedly told me that I’m worthwhile and lovable. She’s always reminded me of my sense of humour, creativity and compassion and those traits enrich my life enough to ensure I want to keep on living, regardless of the cost.

As I take one last look into the mirror we look into each others eyes and there's only one thing we can do, we laugh, the mirth bubbles up uncontrollably. What's so funny? It's the absurdity that I could ever have imagined that I was too weak to climb this far and to overcome any obstacle.  And it’s funny that the woman in the mirror is my hero and she's me!

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