The Failure Mirror

Yes, the Failure Mirror even turns the world through ninety degrees.

Ahhhh, there it is.

I’ve almost been waiting for the day that turns out to be today. The Day of the Failure Mirror.

The mind, of course, is an incredible thing, and perception the great filter we have for the realities not only of the universe but of our place within it (the sky is blue, this person’s attractive, we are good or bad or honest people). None of what our perceptions tell us are of course necessarily, objectively (or indeed in any way at all) ‘true.’

Time flies when we’re having fun, and drags its feet when we’re not. When we make a strong effort, we 

perceive its impact, whether or not the impact is objectively ‘made’ – we feel good for having made the effort, for having set out on a journey. If we pause too long, or give ourselves some silence in which to brood, that positive perception of impact can be stalled, or stopped, or fall away from our minds. That’s the Failure Mirror effect.

I haven’t walked in the morning for two days now, and today it doesn’t seem to matter what anyone says to me – I feel bloated, and frumpy, and as though the effort has not been worth it even so far, let alone when I contemplate the vast majority of the effort which is yet to come. This is probably the most dangerous of days so far in the Disappearing, because the Failure Mirror whispers of worthlessness, hisses of pleasure, and abandonment, and the thrill of giving in and blowing out. ‘It’s not making any difference,’ it says, ‘so why not enjoy yourself. Could be run over by a truck tomorrow.’

It’s interesting that this should happen today, because I have actually had a couple of compliments in the last few days – from d, who says my face is ‘always the first thing to go’, and from a pal of mine, who, when I saw her today, said she could see a difference in me. I suppose, without in any way equating the two, it’s the same sort of logic as applies to depression – people can tell you all the great things in your life till they’re utterly exhausted and blue in the face. If you’re locked into the thrall of the Depression Mirror, none of it can get through, and you can rationalize all the good things to shreds before they get anywhere near you.

But, as I say, there’s not a direct equation between the two, not at all. I know things, rationally – I know that giving up and giving in would be in the long run the wrong thing to do. I know to some extent where the Failure Mirror has come from today – the lack of walking prompting guilt and a negative self-image; having bought an optimistic T-shirt that doesn’t quite fit as I’d like it to just yet; meeting a guy who used to be big, but who likewise has lost a lot of weight, and kept it off; catching sight of myself inadvertantly in the stainless steel reflection of a lift, all of it utterly inconsequential in itself, but all of it reflecting slivers of the Failure Mirror into my mind, all of it helping reflect to me the as-yet-unsuccessful Disappearing Man, or the destined-to-fail Disappearing Man. But, without getting morbid about the thing, I know that if I get on the bike tonight, and walk tomorrow, and eat healthily, and bike tomorrow, I’m at least tuning my body towards the direction I want it to go, whether or not I myself see any worthwhile difference. And I also know that I could wake up tomorrow in an entirely different frame of mind, and if I don’t, then it could be the next day.

Any Disappearing journey will have days of the Failure Mirror in it. If you can learn to strip it of its power of reality, if you can break it down into its component parts, rather than thinking of it as a reality, you can defeat it (as I say, it’s not really like a Depression Mirror, because you can control it and defeat it).

So – onward, to the SudukoBike again!