Dear Reflection.

You look tired. You really look burnt out. You have bags under your eyes and you look stressed. I think it just hit you. In the last twenty-four hours it dawned on you that you have some things you need to work through. For a long time you have shunned the idea of therapy because you were burnt out on it from doing too much in your youth, but the fact is that you need it, Molly. You look like hell warmed over.

You've always believed that you can read happiness on people's faces. For the most part, that's true. But lately you have been a wreck of concealed issues, glossed over truths, and inner pain. Yes, inner pain. True, burning, seething inner pain. The kind that gives you bags and makes you feel saggy. The kind that ties your stomach in knots and makes you feel like you're going to throw up.

I can't just stand aside and watch you crash and burn. I can't just stand aside and pretend that your skin doesn't look bad and your face doesn't look tight. I also can't pretend that it's temporary and going to pass. I can't pretend that the pain and issues that are written all over you haven't been there for years. I can no longer pretend that Zoloft is working and working well. You need more. You deserve more.

You're twenty-five. You're too young to wear the weight of the world on your shoulders. You should be standing upright and standing strong. You should be happy and you should be enjoying your family. Instead, your hair is dull and you are willing yourself through the days. You can only smile if you force it and your laugh isn't genuine anymore. Being eaten up from in the inside out isn't a good look for you.

Get your ass out of bed. Take care of those kids. Love that husband. Finish that degree. Make an important phone call or two. Take the steps to get yourself back. Take the steps that will lead you back to mornings when you wake up rosy and glowing. Now is your time. Get yourself back. I want to recognize you in the mirror again, soon.