Person in the Mirror

Reflections on the life of Weejars

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PLEASE NOTE: Retirement of ‘Person in the Mirror’ Blog

My journey with blogging started over 5 years ago with this precious WordPress site called Person in the Mirror. Although it has been quite a dark blog at times, it has served a healing and cathartic purpose for me, after a series of miscarriages and my ongoing struggles with depression and anxiety. Thankfully, I am in now in a much better place and have decided to retire this blog. Starting afresh if you will!
If you have enjoyed my writing (which I sincerely hope you have!), never fear!  I have started a new blog called ‘By Sarah‘ and I hope you will come over, check it out and even follow me if you like what you read.
Thanks to all my readers and followers over the years (all 58 of you!)

You have supported me in ways you will never know.

Love and blessings,

Sarah (aka WEEJARS)


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Keep Your Eye on the Sea

When walking along the beach
Don’t get lost in a reverie
Take it from my experience
And keep your eye on the sea!

Don’t ponder things big and small
Or how beautiful life be
Trust me friend, listen when I say
Keep your eye on the sea!

The ocean’s ever creeping
As sneaky as can be,
So please! Believe me!
Keep your eye on the sea!

That wave may look quite harmless
And far away it may be
But don’t risk it! Don’t get too close!
Keep your eye on the sea!

Because just when you think you’re safe
Thinking, ‘Ha! It won’t get me’
Bam! It’s gone and drenched you!
That bloody bugger, the sea!

So if you value your runners
Or some other expensive accessory
Do yourself a favour,


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The heat

I wake.
Sand paper tongue
And cracked lips
Crying out for water.

The bed springs under me
Spiral coils injecting
Acupuncture pressure
And conducting the heat.

I groan and rise.
The closed blinds
Frame the light
Peeking through the slats.

I can already feel
It’s hot outside.
The fingers of the sun
Reaching inside to where I have lain.


I take a cool shower
Both to awaken and refresh
I step into my towel but
Sweat is already forming on my body.

I dress and get ready for work.
Makeup slides off my face
My hair is limp and straggly
From the perspiration on my skin.

With my appearance a write off
I settle to be comfortable instead.
Alas, thongs are not
Appropriate for work!

I can’t even face my morning coffee,
A hot drink intolerable on this day.
So I opt for an iced chocolate instead.
The cool liquid, heaven! Sliding down my throat.

I open the front door
And it’s like a nuclear blast.
The heat hits you like a thick blanket.
Smothering. Heavy. Oppressive. Pushing me back inside.

I take steps toward my car
Ruefully gazing back at my home,
Wishing instead, I could hole up
In front of the air conditioner all day.

My hands grasp the steering wheel
And I recoil, burnt.
The vinyl upholstery a hotplate
Blistering any human touch.

The sun glares in my eyes
As I drive.
I pray the cool air will start to circulate soon.
But before it does, I arrive.

The office is a sauna.
Workers drag their feet
And despondently look at the vents above
Willing them to life.

The groan of the generator
Explains that it is already working,
And this will be
as good as it gets.

The beating sun no match
For man-made climate control.
A listless, sluggish day.
Not productive at all.

5pm arrives.
Home time.
The anticipation of respite
As night will fall soon.

The oscillation of the fan
Beat by rhythmic beat
Slowly but surely,
Shifting this terrible heat.


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The tang of salt on my tongue
And smell of seaweed in my nose
Alert me that I am close.
Wind whipping my hair in my face
Blinding me as I walk on
Suddenly, the waves greet me.
Crashing, pounding, angrily
beating a rhythm on the shore.
Children laughing
Splashing, playing.
Seagulls squawking
Indignant that there’s no food.
Squelching sand under foot.
Hissing white wash swirling around
The pylons of the pier.
Bronzed bodies and
The smell of sunscreen.
A game of beach volleyball
And lifesavers on guard.
Detached, I watch all this
Aware, that I am distinctly overdressed
In my boots and heavy clothing.
So I walk on and away from the beach.


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The rock

Humbly they sit
In the water flow
Withstanding the current
Or undertow.

Brown, grey or black
smooth or rough
They’re strong and well-known
For being tough.

As water gushes by
To a destination ahead
The rock stands firm
Holding their place instead.

The challenge you see
Is not sink or swim
It’s stay and be moulded
By the courage within.

I wish to know more
About its story
It’s a journey of love
And not of glory.

I looked a little closer
And I saw a crack
And realised all the things
It was holding back.

I asked the rock
If it was okay
And it said to me,
‘I do this every day.

I take whatever comes
Down stream
I stand my ground
I dare to dream.

I am unique
In every way
I choose to fight
I choose to stay.

I am the rock
I am the one
Who’ll be here ’til
The job is done.’

I thanked the rock
For teaching me
A lesson
in humility.

Without the rock
To bear the load
The water’s path
Is an undefined road.

And when the water’s
All gone away
In the riverbed the
Rocks will stay.

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Person in the picture

I have spent this evening looking through old photographs and was struck by how I barely recognise myself. Not because I don’t look the same but because of the ‘joie de vivre’ that is distinctly lacking from my current-day photos… It made me sad

Who is this person
In the picture that I see
Surely this person
Cannot be me.

With a sparkle in her eye
And mischief in her face
A smile that seems so
Hard to erase.

Full of life and happy
Always captured mid-laugh
She lives life to the full
Doesn’t do things by half.

Confident and fearless
Leaping before she looks
She’s never one to play any
Thing by the books.

To people she’s a magnet
Drawing one and all
She never lacks for company
Her life a constant ball.

Certain of her direction
And following her dreams
Luck is on her side
Silver lining in her seams.

She’s the one who makes things happen
So exciting all the while
If you’re down, she’ll save you
And disarm you with her smile.

To others she seems magical
So powerful and brave
I’m sure they don’t realise
That deep down it’s a charade.

I want to be this person
She is everything I’m not
I used to be just like her
But some how I got lost.

Who is this person
In the picture that I see.
My tears are falling
For who I used to be.

The me I used to be…





Everyone is a moon, and has a dark side which he never shows to anybody.
~Mark Twain, Pudd’nhead Wilson, 1894

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What is the point of trying
Why bother going on
Trudging through life so empty
When all the hope is gone.

I’m staring at a future
That’s not where I want to be
I try to keep eyes forward
But it’s impossible to see.

I don’t know what to do now
My life plan a disaster
Directionless, despairing
I’m a ship without a master.

Steering on a course
That’s unchartered and unclear
Uncertainty, my companion
A slave to my fear.

There is nothing left inside of me
I am but just a shell
Not living, just existing
This futility, is hell.