You stand in front of the mirror and take a peek at yourself. Then
you desperately flee from your image, charging up the stairs, your snow boots still on your feet.
You scream, “I hate looking at myself!”
You wail and huff, “I hate the way I look!”
You want to be heard! This time in words. At the top of the stairs.
You want Mommy and Daddy to REALLY know how uncomfortable you feel
in your little boy body,
to feel the unnamed pain this causes you,
to know the persistent fear that haunts you,
to see the hiding you do under hats and hoods,
to accept that you dislike your name
to help you understand who YOU are
because you feel big
and not so little anymore.
djvichos 
I felt this deeply. When our kids hurt, we hurt. But, good job momma. You see your little one’s humanity. You see the pain. You are honoring the struggle.
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This is a moving realization that even at six one can feel this pain. Well described. I wonder what comes next, how you can help.
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“to see the hiding you do under hats and hoods,” – this line calls to me. ‘To see the hiding’ – what a brilliant articulation of an awareness that runs deeper than every day perception. Also your choice to write in the 2nd person lends another layer of credence to the story unfolding before you.
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Breathtaking and raw. Thanks for sharing this so beautifully; go Mom.
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