Why Looking Yourself in the Eye Might Be the Bravest Thing You Do This Week

Most of us glance but don’t really look. What happens when you meet your own gaze—and stay?

Most of us go through life barely glancing at ourselves, even in the mirror. We check for flaws, adjust, move on. But to look—really look—at yourself, with kind eyes, with curiosity, can feel unbearably awkward or even impossible.

It’s one thing to look at your reflection; it’s another to actually meet your own gaze, as if you are your own best friend, or the parent you always needed.

If you’ve ever tried it, you know: It’s vulnerable. It can feel like you’re being seen for the first time—not by the world, but by the self who’s been waiting all along.

Joseph Murphy, one of the early pioneers of subconscious mind research, understood this. Long before neuroscience could scan a brain or track a nervous system, Murphy knew what we’re just now confirming: the subconscious is always listening, always shaping our reality in the background. He wrote in the 1940s and 50s about how imagination, repetition, and belief could reshape a life. Now, science is catching up—affirming what he saw through intuition and study.

Simon Sinek says there are only a handful of true innovators—the entrepreneurs, the early adopters. The rest of us need safety, proof, and familiarity before we try something new. When it comes to feelings, many of us are still in black-and-white territory: “Good” feelings are welcome. “Bad” feelings should be hidden, fixed, or shamed. But in truth, all feelings have a place, and the more you exile one, the more it leaks into the rest of your life.

The Mirror as a Moment of Reparenting

Looking yourself in the eye is not a self-esteem hack.

It is a practice of radical self-presence.

It’s saying to your nervous system: “I’m not going anywhere. No matter what shows up, I won’t abandon you again.” When you stand in front of the mirror and really look—kindly, bravely—you are sending a signal to your nervous system: I’m not going anywhere, no matter what shows up. I won’t abandon you again.

This practice isn’t just about self-acceptance. It’s about honesty. And honesty takes real courage. Think about it: when someone says, “Can I be honest with you?”—nine times out of ten, something hard is about to land. Why weren’t they honest before? Because honesty is scary. It feels risky. The mirror practice is a kind of bravery training. It forces you to be honest—with yourself, first. Even if the truth is messy, or awkward, or raw.

So if it feels unfamiliar, that’s because for most of us, it is. Most of us learned to disappear when things got uncomfortable. To become what others needed. To trade our complexity for approval.

It’s easier, in the short run, to shrink down into something small, digestible, agreeable. To become, as I often say, a pamphlet version of yourself—thin, easy to hand out, never heavy enough to inconvenience anyone.

But here’s the truth: You are not a pamphlet. You are a library.

A whole, sprawling, complex being with stories, shadows, and strengths that can’t fit on a single page.

(If this metaphor speaks to you, I’ve written about it in depth here.)

But here’s another layer: not everyone moves through the world by feeling. Some people see the world first—“I see what you mean.” Some hear it—“I hear what you’re saying.” Some truly feel. If feeling is unfamiliar or overwhelming, ask yourself, “How do I most readily engage with the world?” Start there. The mirror isn’t just for feelings. It’s for seeing, hearing, or even imagining the part of you that needs to be met, in your own language.

It’s a kind of reparenting. It’s telling yourself: “I am here. I won’t disappear, no matter how uncomfortable this gets.”

And if you notice judgment or resistance? Name it. That’s honesty, too. Most of us disappeared, in little ways or big, when things felt too hard or too shameful. This is a practice of staying.

On Maps and Territory

In neuro-linguistic programming, they say: “You are the map, not the territory.” We move through life with our maps—stories, assumptions, shortcuts. We distort, generalize, and delete what doesn’t fit. The mirror can show you where your map isn’t the territory anymore—where old programs, old shames, still run the show.

You Are Not a Pamphlet

Maybe you’ve spent years trying to be “easy”—palatable, simple, agreeable. Maybe you were told not to have needs. Not to contradict, not to make waves. Maybe you made yourself into a pamphlet: thin, simple, easy to hand out and easy to discard.

But you are not a pamphlet. You are a library.

A living, breathing, messy, radiant collection of stories, questions, strengths, and wounds.

The mirror practice isn’t about editing yourself down to fit. It’s about making room for every chapter.

So if you stand in front of a mirror this week and meet your own eyes, know this: You are doing something brave. You are rewriting the script. You are building the kind of honesty and courage that changes everything, quietly, at first—then all at once.