Reflections

Eisoptrophobia is the name of the fear that dominated every aspect of twenty-three-year-old Miley’s life. Eisoptrophobia is defined as the fear of mirrors. More specifically, the fear of seeing your own reflection in a mirror. 

Miley went to great lengths to avoid seeing her own reflection. She worked from home. She could not drive a car safely because it required the use of mirrors. Because of this she always had groceries and other necessities delivered to her doorstep. There were absolutely no mirrors in her one-bedroom apartment. Any reflective surfaces or objects had been removed or painted over and she kept the blinds pulled down over all the windows to avoid catching a glimpse of any reflections in the glass.

Miley had been nine years old when she got lost in the Funhouse while visiting the small, traveling carnival that had come to town. Before she knew it, she had found herself terribly disoriented in a maze of mirrors, surrounded by what seemed to be hundreds of Mileys. In a panic she had rushed about bouncing off one reflective surface and then another until she was gasping for breath, nearly blinded by her desperate tears.

 It was when she finally stopped to catch her breath and placed her hands on the cool glass in an effort to steady herself that she looked up through puffy eyes at her reflection in the mirror before her. She was overcome with an unsettling certainty that her reflection was off somehow. She couldn’t really put her finger on it… and then…. the “other Miley” in the mirror smiled. Miley knew with full certainty that she herself had definitely not smiled. 

Peeling her hands from the glass she frantically backed away from the mirror. Miley sank to the ground hugging her knees to her chest. She closed her eyes, threw her hands over her face, and let out a blood-curdling scream. The rest of the evening was somewhat of a blur. She vaguely remembered her father finding her huddled on the floor of the Funhouse and carrying her to safety. 

Miley did not speak for a month. When she did find her voice again, she never spoke about the “other Miley” in the mirror. She was left with an intense fear of mirrors that her parents had hoped would improve with time and patience.

Despite her parents’ best efforts, Miley’s fear of mirrors only intensified over time. Her parents had resorted to homeschooling her and Miley refused to enter any rooms where the mirrors were left uncovered. The therapy they had gotten for her had helped to ease the nightmares she had been plagued with ever since the night in the Funhouse. However, no amount of therapy had been enough to help Miley get over her Eisoptrophobia.

Miley had built a life around her phobia. A life that felt safe. A life that she had convinced herself was enough.

Lately, though, Miley had begun to wonder what life could be like if she was able to venture outside of the walls of her little apartment. She wondered how it would feel to have the sunshine warm her face. How it might feel to have friends to grab dinner with on a Friday night….

These thoughts stubbornly persisted until Miley eventually reached out to her former therapist, Dr. Harris.

 Dr. Rita Harris was a slight woman in her late fifties. Her salt and pepper hair stood up in tight coils upon her head. It was a warm afternoon in late July, as she sat studying her patient through her wire rimmed glasses, “You should be immensely proud of yourself, Miley. Taking the bus alone to get here today was a big step for you. Have you thought anymore about the Exposure therapy we discussed at your last session?”

Miley nodded her head, “Yes, I am ready. I am tired of letting this phobia control my life”.

Dr. Harris smiled approvingly, “We will start small.”

And so, the therapy began. Miley was exposed to reflective surfaces in brief increments at first. The amount of time would increase slightly with each session and the ultimate goal was for Miley to have the ability to stand before a full-length mirror and make eye contact with her reflection.

It was a few weeks before the new year when both Miley and Dr. Harris felt confident that Miley was ready to take this crucial, last step. Miley had arrived early on the day of her big appointment only to discover that Dr. Harris had been called to an emergency situation regarding another patient of hers. Frustrated and deeply disappointed, Miley took the bus home.

Tossing her jacket over the arm of her big, comfortable recliner, Miley sank down into the cushion with a heavy sigh. She had been so ready to take this next step, so ready to be closer to the kind of life she had truly begun to look forward to. She did not want to put it off any longer.

Miley was hit with a sudden burst of determination. She realized she didn't have to wait. She would do it right now. The elevator in her apartment building had a large mirror that ran along the back wall. It would only take a couple of minutes and before she knew it, she could be back in her apartment pouring herself a celebratory glass of champagne.

Without hesitation, Miley grabbed her keys and before she could second guess herself, she had made her way quickly down the hall and pressed the elevator button. She was relieved when the door opened and revealed that the elevator was unoccupied. She needed just a few moments to herself if she was going to do this. Miley took a deep breath and stepped inside.

Confidently, she moved toward the mirror. Releasing the breath she had been holding she locked eyes with her reflection and was immediately flooded with relief. Nothing unsettling appeared before her.

Miley took a moment to study her own blue eyes and her wavy, light brown hair. It had been such a long time since she had seen her reflection. She finally felt free.

Miley smiled. Unfortunately for Miley, her happiness would be short lived because even though Miley was smiling, her reflection was most definitely not.