“You look so beautiful,” My mom said, looking at me in the mirror. Smiling from ear to ear, eager to begin the trip to the Daddy Daughter Dance. I couldn't wait to spend a night with my Dad, a night I would cherish forever.

 My mom had flat ironed my hair which was rare because my mom adored my natural wavy thick hair and she didn't want to ruin it with heat. She also allowed me to put a little bit of mascara on along with the tastiest watermelon lip smackers lip gloss that she only let me wear for special occasions. My dress was the best part it made the entire look, it was a dark purple which happened to be my favorite color and was covered in sparkles that shined so bright I could light up any room I entered, and don't let me forget about my shiny black shoes with the tiniest little heal on them, they were my first ever pair of heels. I felt so special. I felt like a princess. I was beyond excited to show my Dad.

 I could already hear the music at the dance, I could feel the sound traveling through my ears as I envisioned the beautiful decorations covering the gymnasium from top to bottom, the colorful disco ball lighting up the dark gym and the other little girls and their fathers surrounding me laughing, dancing and enjoying themselves. I was imagining my Dad and I at the dance and the experience of him reaching his hand out to me asking to dance. It was almost time to go, I was ready. I had been waiting for this moment all my life. Being eight years old, hearing “you look all grown up,” and spending the night at a dance with your superhero father was something every little girl looked forward to. It was words of praise that every child loved to hear, and I never thought I would be afraid of hearing it until I got the news. I sat on the couch looking out the window, I sat as still as I possibly could, this way I wouldn’t mess up my hair or makeup so I would look perfect for the dance. I patiently waited for my Dad to pull up, then my Mom came into the living room.

”Your Dad isn’t coming.” My Mom had a disappointed look on her face. It almost seemed like she was expecting this to happen, she just wanted to protect me from hurting but she had no control over this. I immediately broke down, tore my dress off, messed up my hair, and cried off the little amount of makeup I had on. I looked up in the mirror, sobbing, and all of the sudden my face began to look distorted. I didn’t know why, but it felt like I didn’t know who I was anymore . It was a day I’d never forget, the day my life changed forever. My Dad, who was once my superhero, became a shadow. I heard the breaking of glass for the first time, like a mirror shattering into a million pieces, leaving a ringing in my ears and an unsettling feeling in my stomach. Nothing had broken physically, but it seemed as though something had broken inside of me. At this point in time, it was clear that my Dad would soon become more of a friend to me than a father. He stopped calling, he didn't text, I barely spoke to him.

* * *

"I miss Dad," I said to my Mom in the kitchen while she was cooking spaghetti for dinner.

"Well," she said, "Sometimes there's people in your life that you need, and then there's some people in your life that are just nice to have around. Your Dad seems to be one of the ones who just likes having you around." There it was again, the sound of glass shattering only this time it grew louder.

 That night I laid in my bed and stared at the ceiling, wondering what I did wrong."Why wasn't I good enough?" This question lingered in my mind frequently. My Dad didn't want to put effort into being my Dad, I had to accept the truth. I can't rely on him anymore. He was distancing from me, and was completely done investing any of his time into me. I wish I had a support system, someone to rely on. I didn’t ever have anyone to call or talk to when I was mad at my Mom or even someone to talk to when I was simply just bored.

 They both hate each other, and I knew either way they would never care about how I felt in any situation. My feelings never mattered to them. It hurts, deep down knowing my father won't be there for the important milestones in my life.. I’m glad that I finally began to acknowledge this so I could begin to help myself grow. I began to do things on my own, when I would finally get a hold of my Dad and try and tell him what I was doing with my life he never seemed to care. He never will care, and I’ve accepted it. He shattered my mirror, and it was my job to piece it back together. 

“Who are you?” I said to myself looking into the full body mirror on my bedroom door. I left my bedroom for a minute to get a drink, and when I came back the mirror began to become more and more blurry. “You are a fraud.” I said with a straight face as I began to feel the puddle of tears flood my eyes. Looking through the mirror I didn't even know who I was or who I wanted to be anymore. I watched my innocence slip away with the blink of an eye.  

My Mom began to become an enemy right around the time I turned 13. She realized that because Dad was gone, she was the only one left which I thought would draw us closer but I was wrong. She resented me, first my Dad turned on me, now my Mom was turning against me too? My Mom was once my best friend, my shoulder to cry on, the one who I could gossip to. She instead slowly became a friend, and she only interacted with me when it was relevant to her. I hated it, I was now becoming independent at a young age. I'm supposed to be hanging out with my friends, experiencing high school, football games and school dances. Instead, I had to provide for myself. Teach myself things for school that my Mom and Dad were supposed to help me with. The phrase “you look so grown up,” was something I once enjoyed, but now feared because I knew I really was growing up too early.

“I got a phone call from school again, another fight? Seriously?” My Mom had such an enraged look on her face it was scaring me it was a face I had never seen before. I didn’t know what to tell her. I couldn’t tell her how I was truly feeling because I knew she would brush it off. The reason I misbehaved was because of her. She lurks inside me, and she doesn’t notice it. 

“You’re grounded, no phone, no friends, no nothing.” She said as she slammed my door. I cried and cried because of how frustrated I felt with myself. I wish my Mom would have listened to me, and realized what the root of my problems were. I wish I could have told her how she truly made me feel, and she would compensate and take her time to change herself for the better. With my Dad being gone as it is, and My Mom now becoming the enemy, I felt unloved. I felt as though I could do anything and nobody would pay attention. I didn’t want to be the center of attention for everyone, I just wanted someone to acknowledge me so I acted out and was always fighting in school and that brought me some sort of attention that I so desperately wanted.

All I ever wanted was someone to tell me I am loved, that I am worthy. I was just a hurt little girl begging for someone to care about me. Every morning of my freshman year I would wake up as early as I could handle and sit in the mirror and coat my face in makeup, not because I wanted to look pretty, or because I wanted to fit in but simply because I needed a mask to hide all of the hurt, unfortunately makeup only goes so far because no amount of makeup could hide the blankness in my eyes. The once bright eyed bubbly girl I used to be was numb. 

The only way I communicated with my Mom was through yelling. When I was at home, nobody talked to me. I was ignored and kicked out of the room as soon as I walked in, it was obvious my presence wasn’t wanted. The only thing I could do to cope was sleep. What else was there to do in my own home if nobody talked or even acknowledged me? To be in the same house as my Mom felt like I was walking on eggshells. She made my life so unfair. She would only provide me something when she felt generous. She never offered anything voluntarily. Without warning I heard that glass shatter again, the loudest it had ever been. Instead this time it was my mom causing it.

It was at this point that I came to the conclusion that it was me and me only. I couldn't rely on my Mom, she was too busy with her life to ever put effort into me and my life. Everytime I would look in a mirror I saw myself shifting into the mother I needed my mom to be when I was growing up. I was mothering my inner child, holding her as she weeps in my arms longing for acceptance and love.

 Once I came to that conclusion, I sat and looked at myself in the mirror, it began to clear up and opened my eyes to the reality that I was worthy of love, I mattered. I am finally at the age where I have come to terms that my parents will never change, my dad will never be that dad I needed, and my mom will never be the person she used to be and that's okay with me. I wasted all my energy for most of my life doing anything possible to have my parents' acceptance, but I don't need it anymore because I have accepted myself. I love the person I am and the person I will become. my mirror no longer represents the hurt little girl I once was, instead my mirror shows me the strong independent person I have now come to be.