Connie’s story

This is a story with a twist; there are two ways of reading it, as a story and as an allegorical metaphor for states we often allow ourselves to get into. Spread over a series of blogs, this is Connie's story.

Connie had read the books and seen the programmes. She knew all about image and she had none of the qualities they talked about. She was fat, she was short, and she was imperfect. The woman had promised to help but she couldn’t see what she could do save take her brain out and transplant it! She sat down and the woman started to talk.

Connie found herself drifting off into a peaceful place. She stepped out of herself and looked. For the first time she looked without judgement. She looked at a woman who was far from perfect but had some very good features. Yes, she could do more with them. Mm, she really should stop hiding herself away in those baggy clothes; maybe use some make-up; why had she hated herself for so long? She couldn’t see the problem. As she stood there looking on she could hear the woman and what she was saying made sense. Yes, Connie knew, she did have the answers to her own problems she just needed to activate them, but would the conscious mind be willing to listen this time? The woman gave her some strategies which she could use to prompt the conscious into listening. She liked that, yes it would work. It would take time but yes, she could see that she would have to listen. The woman thanked her and she thanked the woman. Turning back towards herself she knew she would succeed.

“So would you like a cup of tea?” Connie opened her eyes and looked at the woman. Was that the time? Where had she been? “Yes, I’d love one”. She followed the woman into the kitchen and listened to her chatting about the garden and did she garden? What were her favourite flowers and what was her favourite time of year?

Connie faces the truth

Connie stood looking in the mirror; she hated doing it and had banned mirrors at home.

She had worn baggy tops and oversized jogging bottoms for many years and had hidden behind the baggy shape she had become.

Now she was being made to look in the mirror, now she was being made to really look at herself. Stripped of the baggy covering she had felt safe behind she saw what frightened her the most.

Herself.

“When you look in the mirror what do you see?”

Connie tried to look. She knew somewhere inside this frumpy cage there was a person who had had dreams and wishes, someone who had everything to look forward to. Now she was stuck and couldn’t see beyond the … she couldn't even say what ‘that’ was.

“Would you like to find the key?”

Connie felt a wave of emotion, she thought she would be sick. A way out, a way forward, but would it be safe? Would she be able to cope? The fear of someone offering here exactly what she wanted and yet offering her exactly what frightened her filled her to overflowing. She thought she would stop breathing.

“I will come with you. I have already been there. You wont die.”

It was as if the person knew her inner thoughts. She turned to the voice and crying, ran towards it. “Oh please, yes please. I want to move on. I am so frightened, but I want more than this. Yes please, take me with you.”