The Mirror You Avoid

{{#invoke:MediaWiki|text| Let me be direct: The mirror you avoid isn’t just a reflection. It’s the cost of your silence.

For years, I avoided looking at the mirror of my own exhaustion. I’d stare at my polished LinkedIn profile, the 80-hour weeks, the "I’m fine" emails to my twins’ school. I thought I was building something. I was actually building a cage.

Here’s what no one tells you: Avoiding that mirror costs you everything you thought you were gaining. - What I gained: The freedom to say "no" without guilt. The quiet joy of watching my twins build a Lego city without me checking my inbox. The ability to sleep through the night. - What I gave up: The corner office. The "high-flyer" status. The constant, exhausting validation of being "the perfect lawyer." I gave up the idea of myself I’d spent 20 years curating. - Was it worth it? Absolutely. But the cost wasn’t just a promotion or a paycheck. It was the years I missed. The way my daughter asked, "Mommy, why do you look so tired?" while I was still pretending I wasn’t. The moment I realized I’d traded my presence for a title I didn’t even want.

I learned this the hard way: Avoiding the mirror isn’t courage. It’s surrender. You think you’re protecting your career, but you’re actually erasing your life. The mirror doesn’t lie. It shows you the cost of every "yes" you made to avoid discomfort.

Now, I teach boundaries like they’re oxygen. Because the real cost of avoiding that mirror isn’t burnout—it’s the quiet, daily erosion of who you are. You don’t lose your job when you say no. You lose the person you became to keep it.

I’m not saying it’s easy. I still catch myself reaching for that old, familiar panic. But now I know: the mirror isn’t your enemy. It’s the only map to the life you’re actually living.

— Tracy Carlson, drawing the line}}