The Woman in the Mirror

This world feels heavy and confusing right now. It’s easy to blame others, divide, and declare who’s good and who’s not. But instead of pointing fingers this week, I sat with myself and asked, “What does it truly mean for me to be a good person?”

Dear me,

Am I a good person?

I want to say yes and move on. I want to pat myself on the back for being kind to strangers, loving my people, and trying to leave places better than I found them. But that’s not the question. The question is deeper and requires a more thoughtful answer. When the enraged world hurts someone I love and my heart breaks, when the headlines make my tummy tighten, when someone believes the opposite of what I believe, who am I then?

I can feel the tug to point outward. Look at them. Scrutinize what they said…what they did. But today I’m turning the camera around. Woman in the mirror, tell me the truth.

Here are a few truths I don’t like admitting.

I have judged people I don’t know based on a single post, just because of their angry words. I have walked into a room and decided who was “my people” and who wasn’t, before anyone said a word. I have spoken with certainty when I had only half the story.

Another truth. As a woman who leads from an Enneagram Type 4 -The Individualist, I can make a beautiful story out of a moment and forget to check all the facts. I’ve clung to my ideals so tightly that I’ve missed the human being standing right in front of me. In a heartbeat, I can withdraw when the world gets loud or hurtful. The work for me is not to hide. It is to stay present, eyes open, heart steady, and to ask better questions.

So what does being a good person look like in real life, not in theory?

I’m not entirely sure anymore.  I’m stumbling forward with what I do know… piecing together a picture of goodness from my mistakes…and my wins.

Being a good person looks like practicing perspective on purpose (Stephen Covey called it a Paradigm Shift).  Sounds easy…it’s not…it’s quite the struggle. 

When I catch myself saying, I can’t believe anyone would think that, I try this line instead. If I had their childhood, their teachers, their neighborhood, their news sources, their losses, would I be different? That question doesn’t make me agree. It helps me to empathize and remember my humanity.

It looks like letting small moments count. The clerk who moves slowly. The neighbor who never waves. The family member who learned sarcasm as a shield. I can be soft even when it feels inefficient. I can be clear without being sharp. I can set a boundary with an open heart.  My neighbor who really does NEVER wave or acknowledge us, recently called from the road, “When will you be moving?”  Really?  We’ve been here two years, she’s never introduced herself or responded when I waved or said, “Good Morning?”.  I took a breath, smiled, and told her that we had no intentions of moving, but I would let her know the first time I talked with her, if we changed our minds.  I was courteous and in mind, set a boundary…since we have never talked. 😄

It looks like accountability without all the drama. I do not need to declare my goodness to the internet. My dogs know if I’m patient. My partner knows if I am kind. The people who work with me know if I share credit or hoard it. Goodness is a daily practice, not a brand.  

Not a brand!  Not a performance. Just practice.

It also looks like courage. I grew up watching people I loved try to keep the peace at any cost. Peace without truth is silence wearing a smile. It works sometimes…but often it’s a huge facade.

There are moments when a good person steps in. 

Not to perform. 

Not to punish. 

To guard what is sacred about being human. To say “no” to cruelty. To say “yes” to love. To help the most vulnerable feel less alone. Like a young woman who, instead of staring, handed her baby off to her husband and came to sit with me, holding my hand, as I wept in the back of the church I had never attended.

Some mornings, I sit in my chair with hot tea, protecting my heart from the noise out there. I turn it all off. The headlines.  Social media.  My phone.  Even the to-do list waiting for me..  And for a while, this feels like medicine. I can breathe again.  But it’s also my favorite hiding place. Too many mornings in a row, and my quiet corner becomes a cave.  I don’t want to live numbed out even if it feels safer.  Survival keeps me stagnant.  Love asks me to get back up.  

Nature helps. The geese, the eagles, the wild colors of the sky. They remind me that I am not in charge of the whole world. I am responsible for my small square of it. My thoughts. My words. My actions. My ripples.  

I can’t keep my head buried in the sand forever.  I can’t breathe down there. I’ve got to do something.  To this point, my “something” has been telling my stories, spreading my love, listening, but sometimes only to what feels comfortable.  That’s not enough anymore.

If you’re reading this, maybe you feel the same push and pull. Maybe you want to be a good person without falling into self-righteousness.. 

Here is the mirror I am holding up to myself this week. Use any part that serves you.

The Six Practices

1. The three checks

• Did I slow down enough to see the person, not just the position?

• Did my action grow love or grow fear?

• If someone I love were on the receiving end, would I be at peace with how I showed up?

2. The humility reset

When I get loud or mean inside, I ask, “What might I be missing?” I list three plausible reasons a reasonable person could see this differently. If I can’t list three, I am not ready to speak.

3. The repair script

I’m sorry for how that landed. Thank you for explaining. Here’s what I’m going to do differently. Short. Specific. No self-lecture required.

4. The story audit

Am I telling myself a story that makes me the hero and them the villain? Can I rewrite it so we both get to be human? If I can’t, I take a long walk before I respond.

5. The circle test

Did my choice widen the circle of who counts? Or did it shrink it to people just like me? Widening the circle is slow work. It is also the work.

6. The tiny brave things

Text the apology. Learn the name of the person I keep seeing at the store. Offer the cart. Let the car in. Share the credit. Ask more questions. Listen to an acquaintance’s podcast or read their blog. Eat lunch with someone new. These look small. They build muscle.

This is not about being nice. It is about becoming trustworthy. With our words. With our power. With each other.  But mostly with ourselves…If I can’t trust myself to tell the truth, to admit my own mess, to repair any harm I’ve caused…then what does my goodness even mean?

There is a line I ask myself before I post or speak when I’m stirred up. Would I say this in a room full of mothers who are grieving? If the answer is no, I don’t say it anywhere. That line keeps me from using my pain as a weapon.

And yes, sometimes I still get it wrong. I will get it wrong again. Goodness is less about how sorry I feel this time, and more about how willing I am to grow the next time.

If you’re wondering where to start, start small and start nearby. Start with the person you see in the mirror. 

• Ask her to tell the truth. 

• Ask her to be brave in little ways. 

• Ask her to love bigger without shouting about it. 

• Ask her to remember that every person she meets is carrying a heavy bag no one else can see.

Am I a good person? Today, I will try to be a better one. That feels true and honest enough for me.

Our world will keep feeling heavy. It will keep shouting at me to choose sides, to point fingers, to declare who’s good and who’s not.  But the only place I can begin is here…with me…the woman in the mirror.  Not nearly perfect…not nearly finished.  Just willing to keep growing, repairing, and loving bigger tomorrow than I did today.

With you, shoulder to shoulder, learning as we go.

Diana
Love is ALL there is