"How do you think other people perceive you?"

A couple of years ago, my Mom said offhandedly that she had run into Mrs. Heighway at the store, and she sent her good wishes out to me. Just the mention of the name brought a smile to my face and images of my time in the Brownie organization to my mind. Mrs. Heighway had been one of the best adult friends a prepubescent teen could have happened upon in her young life. Always positive, always ready with a kind word or deed, Joanne has since committed many years to helping wee girls become little women - little women who could kick butt, take names and survive by themselves in the wild if need be.

At home, I rummaged around in my sorely disorganized crate of pictures until I came upon it: the picture of me at camp, age 9, standing arm in arm with Beryl, me just as thin as a rail, brown as a bean and grinning like a monkey. I've always loved that picture because, aside from the hideous haircut, that's when I felt I was at my best, and the most well-received by others. I was happy, loved, self confident and relaxed. Those qualities were written all over me back then.

What happened in the ensuing 26 years that has led me to what I am now remains a mystery. Was I irretrievably changed (soured?) by one monumental incident, or was it the result of years of mediocrity eroding my smile, my friends and my ability to succeed in society?

I've always been told I shouldn't play poker. My face is so full of expression, there's no way I could bluff properly. That came as a shock the first time I heard it, and to this day still makes me frown in sincere puzzlement. How could I own this face that is apparently brimming with emotion and not be fully aware of it? Others obviously see through me in an instant, which causes me no end of anxiety.

Perception is a funny thing. What I am is not necessarily what others will see. Everything is tainted by each individual's frame of reference. How do you compete with that? Is it better to be invisible? These days it's all I have the strength for. Lately, I find it so difficult to engage others in conversation, in friendships, in love. I've been running on that particular treadmill and not getting anywhere far too long. A while ago, I made a deal with myself to back off from always being the first to extend my hand to others. I emotionally opened up to accept the good fortune and karma that was surely to come my way and found myself standing alone. It was a risk I had been willing to take at the time, and one I'd been willing to bet would have ended up differently.

Ultimately, every morning when I sidle up to the mirror and face myself, I have to believe in my heart that I see a warm, caring person with a whole lot to give. How others perceive me, while important, is never as important as how I perceive myself. At the very least, that belief gives me a starting point to finding my way back to the girl in the picture.

Posted at 8:43 a.m.