Reflections – The great tits

The past few weeks there’s been these two little birdies that have been driving me crazy. CRAZY I tell you!
Great tits, actually (yes. I giggled). Throughout the ENTIRE day – these two bastards LAUNCH themselves at my french doors. PECK at my french doors. Flap their wings, stomp their feet, thomp their bodies against my back door.

The constant thud, splat, flutter concerto is enormously annoying when I’m sitting at my table only a meter away, trying to work, or on my couch, trying to watch something on the tv. They’re not out to vex me, perse, I’ve gather so far. They’re also NOT desperately trying to become human and move into my house either. And, as it turns out, it’s not gruesome (yet failed) suicidal tendencies either. Pfew.

Nope – dear readers.
These two teeny tiny bastards are apparently fiercely territorial AND fiercely stupid little tits. Ain’t nothing great about them. Because with the rise of the wintery sun, the reflection in my windows is just so that they perceive their mirror images as actual competitors and a MUST KILL TARGET. Which they very vigourously (and constantly) attempt. I’d almost feel sorry for them, but I feel more sorry for me.

Yet, as aggravating as they are, this morning I got a little bit sentimental (as we hormonal, fickle, womanly creatures tend to do) about those poor tits. The birds. Not mine.

The past century there’s been a whole lot of research into this exact type of self-awareness in animals. Into their failure to grasp that a reflection in a mirror is them. That it belongs to them as much as their actual body does. A mirror test was designed to put this to the test, and most animals (save some exceptions) cannot grasp the concept of mirrors. To them, the reflection is another one of their kind – never themselves. Which can lead to hilarious scenes like puppies trying to befriend a mirror-puppy, or apes going apeshit at a rival.

Now, the psychology behind those tests, and the implications of the results – however interesting – are not really what made me a bit teary-eyed. It wasn’t the great tit’s brave attempts at protecting his home and household either, mind you. But the concept of mirrors and reflections? That got me going.

It’s no secret that these past few months, I’ve not been feeling myself. There’s definitely been occasions where I’ve literally remarked no longer recognising myself in the mirror, much like all of these poor animals, who cannot reconcile that image with their own inner being. It’s a weird thing, to feel like that, to say the least. It’s a way of being out of touch that is very hard on a soul, and very difficult to work through, as I’ve found out. When you don’t feel like yourself – it’s impossible for anything else around you to feel ‘right’ as well. You can’t be whole if you can’t even begin to see yourself as such in something as simple as a mirror.

And that’s where I suddenly saw the similarities between me and these birds.

At times, I have had that same inexplicable urge to lash out at a mirror that was only showing me a truth I didn’t want to recognize. A face I didn’t want to be mine. With puffy eyes, and reddened cheeks. With tears and a sadness in the depths of a gaze that I didn’t want to feel. New lines I didn’t want to accept. I felt how the corners of a mouth no longer curled up in a smile I used to have. And hated the new arch of my brows. I was angry at that reflection. Angry at what had become my own worst enemy. Angry at myself for being like this, for allowing myself to become like this and even angrier for being unable to change anything about it all at the same time.

And there’s also been times where I feared the image before me. Feared who I’d spent a year trying to become, only to completely lose touch with who it was I’d turned in to. Feared all of the work I put into what I thought was personal growth, but turned out to be a forced persona and fragile facade that couldn’t possibly be kept up because it just…didn’t…fit. Feared how it was at my own hands that I’d transformed into something I very thoroughly didn’t want to be.

Feared how I could have such power over something so fundamentally important to myself, and so little knowledge on how to wield it. Because what if I DID try to change, again? Who’s to say the results would be better? And what if going back wasn’t an option either? The fear at what felt so inevitably ‘wrong’ was real.

Mirrors reflected that unease to me ever since the breakup. Made the wrongness oh so visible. Showed me the cracks and highlighted the mask that I thought had become my face. Was my face. Should be my face. But never was. And well, lets just say I haven’t been looking in a lot of mirrors since that time. Vanity out the door, which, I suppose, could also be a good thing.

Fight or flight – the two standard animalistic responses when confronted with something unpleasant. Both of which I’ve felt and acted upon, much like those great tits assaulting my windows. The thing is, though, that, UNLIKE those tits – I, as a human, DO have the power of self-awareness. And with that the power of reasoning and the capacity of change. And even though the last year was hard as balls, change DOES happen.

And it happens fast.

Because I no longer find myself battling my reflection now that I’ve FIRMLY closed the doors that led to past mistakes, and opened a few promising new ones that are bringing about changes that I DO welcome. Changes back to the core of myself, in full acceptance of the me that I am. Towards a reflection that I can recognize and cherish. Instead of battle an unbeatable reflection until I get a headache. Like those idiot birds.

New horizons baby. Now, here’s hoping that I don’t rush towards a shiny paradise ahead, only to find out it’s a mirror reflecting back the past right when I bang facefirst into it at full speed. But hey. We’re supposed to recognize mirrors, right? I say IT’S ON!