Finding Myself in the Mirror: A Reflection Inspired by A Hue of Blue

Dear Younger Me,

I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately. I’ve been rereading A Hue of Blue by Marie France Léger, and it’s stirred memories of you—of us.

I know you’re standing in front of the mirror, scrutinizing every inch of your reflection. You’re pinching at skin you wish would disappear, pulling at fabric that doesn’t feel quite right, and hearing the echo of other people’s voices louder than your own. I know you don’t believe me yet, but someday, you’ll learn that you are so much more than what you see.

Marie France Léger’s book felt like a lifeline when I first read it. It’s not just a story about loss and healing; it’s about the quiet, often unseen ways we piece ourselves back together. It reminded me of all the times you tried so hard to measure your worth through other people’s eyes. Like the protagonist, you felt as if you were fading into the background, a blur of blues and greys, invisible unless someone else pointed you out.

I want to tell you what I wish someone had told us then: you are not defined by someone else’s approval. You are not just what the world sees. You are a symphony of thoughts, dreams, and kindnesses—more vibrant than any hue you can imagine.

I remember how desperately you needed validation, how every glance, every comment, every like on a photo felt like confirmation that you mattered. And yet, none of it ever filled the void, did it? Because you were looking for something that couldn’t come from others. You were looking for you.

“A Hue of Blue” taught me that it’s OK to be a work in progress. Like the book’s heroine, I learned that it’s OK to cry, to feel small, to stumble as you grow. It’s OK to not know who you are yet. What’s not OK is letting someone else’s opinion steal your light.

I remember the day you looked in the mirror and saw something other than flaws. It wasn’t because you suddenly lost weight or changed your hair or started dressing differently. It was because you stopped trying to make yourself small. You began to see yourself as a whole person, not just a collection of parts that needed fixing.

I want to hold your hand and tell you that the road ahead won’t always be easy. You’ll still hear the whispers of self-doubt. You’ll still wonder if you’re good enough sometimes. But here’s the truth: you are. You’ve always been.

Marie France Léger’s words helped me see that life isn’t about erasing the parts of ourselves we don’t like. It’s about embracing them, even if they feel messy or incomplete. It’s about learning to sit with the uncomfortable truths until they become a part of who we are—a part we love.

So, dear younger me, when you feel lost or lonely or unsure of who you’re becoming, remember this: you are a masterpiece in progress. You are a hue that no one else can replicate. One day, you’ll look back and see that every moment of doubt, every tear, and every awkward, uncertain step was worth it.

And when that day comes, I hope you’ll smile at the girl in the mirror. She’s more beautiful than she knows.

With all my love,

Your Older Self