Ever look in the mirror and get a shock? You might say, "Yes, Vikki, all the time!" But for me, this moment was different.
We have moved back to suburbia after a year in a caravan and, funnily enough, into the house we first ever owned—but as renters. You heard me right; we're back where we first started in Australia. I remember thinking about where we'd put our furniture and what our days would look like as Amelia started school the next year. I saw the whole movie scene playing out. But once we arrived and began unpacking, by day three, when the boxes had started to disappear, and a sense of clarity emerged, I remember going up the stairs to our room. It finally looked like a bedroom (yay!). I turned to my right, and these sliding door mirrors were on the wardrobe. I remember this moment so clearly.
I turned to my right and suddenly saw her. I looked in the mirror and was shocked. I wasn't expecting to see the person looking back at me. She was older, her body was different, and she wasn't the version of me that had been in that mirror almost eight years ago when we first moved into this house.
So, what did I do? The most common thing: I went to another mirror in the bathroom. Surely, that mirror was defective... Nope. I then went to my daughter's room. Still, the same person stared back at me. But how could that be? I was back in the house where it all started. I thought I'd see the person I was before. The reality struck me: my movie scene wasn't about me. It was about the person who used to live in this house eight years ago.
I've been playing this scenario for the last few days. Why did it shock me so much? What was I expecting? Looking back, Why did I think I'd see myself from eight years ago?
As I sat thinking about it, I realised that I was just me at that moment, walking up the stairs. I wasn't playing the roles of mum, wife, worker, unpacker, business owner, daughter, auntie, or friend (insert any other identity or role here). At that moment, I was playing the role of me. Just me—tired, slightly overwhelmed, and surviving on carbs for the last few days.
It got me thinking that we have so many different roles and identities that we play out. We do some of them beautifully and others like an awkward elephant performing an ice-skating routine (clumsy, with little grace, but still going). But we keep doing them. And for the first time in a long time, I looked in the mirror as just me—the one who was meant to be the leading lady of all the roles I play. And she was a little lost.
When I think of the roles we play, I notice something profound. When I'm in the role of mum, the main characters are my family: how they respond, what they do or don't do, and the work I do to help create their outcomes. When I'm in the roles of wife, worker, or owner, I see everyone else playing their part, and I see the actions of my role being received. But I couldn't actually see me. What was I doing, feeling, saying? How was I acting in each role? I didn't know. I'd spent so much time being led in my roles that I'd forgotten to lead myself.
I was listening to a podcast while on my morning walk (of course I was, right?). Dr. Scott Lyons said something that struck me: "Our busyness is a way to train ourselves to be distracted and disconnected from our true selves." Huh? Is it possible that we put on so many roles and allow ourselves to be led in them so we can hide from the original role of leading lady?
So, how can we find the actual leading lady role again? It starts by checking in on each role we play, understanding its value in our lives, and how it connects to the leading role, i.e., You.
I asked myself these three questions to help guide me:
What do I love about each of the roles I play? What is unique about each of them?
What is similar about them? Start to find the overarching theme of who you are.
From an identity perspective, what part of these roles would I want to improve?
Why these questions?
When we think about it, our identity was created with the "Original me" in place as the leading lady. We've never stopped being that, but maybe the "Original me" has quietened down, stepped aside, or didn't quite know how to fit in. This is when we feel the friction between who we are, what we do, and how we want to experience it all.
These questions help us create the thread connecting each identity to the "Original me," constantly evolving and growing as it learns through our different roles. They also help us check the core emotional values that drive us to be present in each role.
When we realise our leading lady is always present and evolves with us, we no longer search for lost roles or become consumed by new ones. We remain centred on our leading role, aligning how we show up, experience our emotions, and become present in all the roles we play.
Rediscovering the leading lady within is not about rejecting the roles we play but about integrating them with a deep sense of self. By reflecting on who we are at our core and aligning our roles with that, we can lead our lives with intention, authenticity, and grace. The journey back to yourself doesn't mean starting over; it means realising you were always there; you just forgot that the spotlight is yours; you need to step into it.