CaritoSpeaksLife

There was a season in my life when I realized something unsettling:

I was living between three different mirrors.

The first mirror was how the world sees me.

The second mirror was how I see myself.

And the third the one I struggled the most to believe was how God sees me.

Each mirror reflected a different story.

The World’s Mirror

The world is loud.

It defines you quickly and labels you easily. It measures worth by productivity, appearance, achievements, status, and perfection. It celebrates strength but rarely understands vulnerability.

The world’s mirror told me:

Be more. Do more. Prove more.

It magnified flaws.

It compared constantly.

It made identity feel like a performance.

And if I’m honest, sometimes the world’s voice became my own.

My Own Mirror

This mirror was the hardest.

Because it carried my fears, insecurities, past mistakes, disappointments, and silent battles. It replayed memories I wished I could forget. It questioned my adequacy. It distorted truth through emotion.

My own mirror whispered:

You’re not enough.

You should be further by now.

Why are you still struggling with this?

It was not always cruel but it was often unforgiving.

And rebuilding myself meant confronting this reflection with honesty.

God’s Mirror

God’s mirror is quiet.

Not because He has nothing to say — but because His voice is not forceful. It is steady, patient, and rooted in truth rather than emotion or opinion.

God’s mirror says:

You are chosen.

You are loved.

You are being shaped, not discarded.

You are a work in progress, not a finished failure.

Where the world measures, God restores.

Where I criticize, God redeems.

Where I see broken pieces, God sees unfolding purpose.

Rebuilding myself has been, above all, a process of learning to trust

His reflection over my feelings.

Learning to Pause

One of the most unexpected parts of rebuilding was this:

God did not ask me to strive harder.

He invited me to pause.

To slow down.

To breathe.

To sit with Him without pressure, performance, or noise.

Because sometimes the greatest healing does not happen in movement…

But in stillness.

In the pause, I began to hear Him more clearly.

In the rest, I began to see myself more truthfully.

Learning to Rest in Him

Rest did not come naturally to me.

Like many of us, I was used to carrying, fixing, managing, pushing forward. Rest felt unfamiliar, almost uncomfortable.

But God gently taught me:

Rest is not weakness.

Rest is trust.

It is the quiet surrender that says:

“God, I don’t have to hold everything together. You already are.”

And in that rest, something sacred happened.

My anxiety softened.

My self-criticism loosened.

My identity began to detach from performance.

Because I was no longer trying to rebuild myself alone.

The Journey of Rebuilding

Rebuilding is rarely dramatic.

It happens in small, unseen decisions:

Choosing grace over self-condemnation.

Choosing truth over distorted thoughts.

Choosing patience over unrealistic timelines.

Choosing faith when emotions disagree.

Choosing to pause when the world says rush.

Choosing to rest when fear says strive.

Some days rebuilding looks like strength.

Other days it looks like simply not giving up.

God did not rush my healing.

He did not shame my process.

He did not withdraw when I wrestled with doubt.

Instead, He stayed.

Learning to See Differently

I am still learning.

Still unlearning the world’s definitions.

Still challenging my inner critic.

Still aligning my self-perception with God’s truth.

Still practicing the sacred rhythm of pause and rest.

Because transformation is not just about changing behavior —

It is about changing vision.

Seeing myself not through comparison, fear, or past wounds…

But through the eyes of a God who creates nothing without purpose.

Final Reflection

There will always be multiple mirrors.

The world will continue to speak.

My emotions will continue to fluctuate.

But peace comes when I anchor my identity in the only reflection that never distorts:

How God sees me.

And in that mirror, rebuilding becomes not a desperate repair…

But a sacred, patient, grace-filled process of becoming —

often shaped in the quiet places of pause and rest.

As it is written:

“I praise You because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;

Your works are wonderful, I know that full well.”

— Psalm 139:14