The Mirror in the Restroom

On Wednesday, I had the pleasure of taking a four-and-a-half-hour road trip from Dallas to Oklahoma. Now, some people dread long drives—but not me. Not when I’m riding with Kermit—my hubby, my best friend, my ride or die. We know how to turn a stretch of highway into something sacred. Sometimes we listen to podcasts, sometimes we talk about life, and sometimes we just ride in silence, letting the road do the talking.

I had an event scheduled the next day. The organizers had already warned me: “Now Ms. Spears, just so you know, it’s out in the middle of nowhere.” I chuckled. This wasn’t my first rodeo. I grew up in Karnack, Texas, and I’ve spoken in big cities, small towns, and everything in between. Still, I appreciated the heads-up.

Because of the remote location, we booked a hotel in Tulsa—about an hour away. But before we checked in, I wanted to swing by the venue—a tech center—to get a feel for the space. I wasn’t expecting much, but to my surprise, it was really nice. Clean. Updated. The room I was scheduled to speak in had already been beautifully decorated by the staff and carried a warm, positive vibe. The tech center team even provided me with a vacant classroom to set up for a virtual session I had after the event. I was good to go!

The next morning, Kermit and I arrived early to do the usual: check the PowerPoint, mic test, room flow. I like to make sure everything is in sync so I can be fully present for the people. But wouldn’t you know it—the projector was down. Something about a blown-out bulb. The team was scrambling to figure it out while attendees slowly trickled in.

Now, I’ve been doing this long enough to know—things happen. You just have to roll with it. But still, the energy in the room was tightening. I could feel the tension rising around me. Small mishaps have a way of creating big ripples when everyone wants things to be perfect.

So, I decided to step away for a moment.

“I’m gonna run to the restroom,” I said.

But really—I needed to breathe. I needed a quiet space to say a prayer, ground my energy, and reconnect to why I do this work.

After finishing my business, I made my way to the sink. I turned on the water and started washing my hands, focused on the rhythm of the moment.

That’s when I saw her.

She stood at the mirror—early fifties, maybe. Jeans and a plain black t-shirt. I figured she was part of the team I was there to speak to. But what caught me wasn’t her outfit—it was her eyes.

She didn’t say a word. Just stared at me as she slowly applied a deep shade of lipstick. No smile. No greeting.

“Hello,” I said politely, breaking the silence.

Nothing.

She just kept looking at me. Not blinking. Not smiling. Just staring like she was trying to figure me out—or maybe trying to decide something about me.

Okay then, I thought. Let me finish drying my hands and be on my way. This lady’s energy was giving me the creeps.

That’s when she finally spoke.

“So, how long you been doing this?”

I paused. Doing what? I thought. “Speaking?” I asked.

She nodded, still staring through me like she was reading something only she could see.

“Almost nine years now,” I replied, keeping it light.

She let out a soft “huh,” then tilted her head slightly. “And you’re still not speaking to bigger crowds?”

I blinked.

I wasn’t sure if I heard her right—but I had.

I stopped drying my hands and looked at her more closely. Yep. That logo on her shirt confirmed it—she was part of the team I was about to speak to. And honestly? I didn’t need that energy in the room.

“Well,” I said calmly, “I go where I’m called. Big or small, it doesn’t matter to me. If the message fits the room, I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.”

She just stared.

“So, do you do anything else?” she asked.

“I write books,” I said.

“Oh.” Her eyes narrowed. “You must not be that popular. I’ve never heard of you.”

I exhaled slowly.

“I don’t write to be popular,” I said. “I write because it’s how I process life. I write to share what I’ve learned—and honestly, I learn a lot from my own words.”

She seemed unfazed. I, on the other hand, was ready to wrap this up. I dried my hands, threw the paper towel in the trash, and reached for the door.

But she wasn’t done.

“You have kids?” she asked abruptly.

“I do,” I replied.

“How many?”

“Three beautiful girls.”

“Do they support you?”

“When they can,” I said. “They’ve got full lives of their own.”

She smirked. “Well, if your own kids aren’t calling to wish you well before an event, they probably don’t support you.”

And that was it.

Something inside me snapped—but not in anger. In awareness.

This wasn’t about her. This was about me.

Because somehow, she was saying things I had once whispered to myself. Things I had tried to bury.

Questions I had asked late at night when doubt crept in:

Are you good enough?

Shouldn’t you be further along by now?

Why doesn’t your family show up like they used to?

Does any of this even matter?

I stood there, staring at her now. No longer unsettled. Just… curious.

“And who are you?” I asked softly.

She paused.

For the first time, her expression shifted. She looked at me—not through me—and her voice softened.

“I’m you,” she said. “I’ve been riding with you for years. I’m the part of you that you don’t like to admit still lingers. The doubt. The self-judgment. The fear. Today, I just found a way to get your attention.”

She leaned closer to the mirror.

“Now you can finally see what it sounds like—what it looks like—when you speak to yourself the way you used to. From the outside, it’s not so easy to swallow, is it?”

I stared back at my own reflection.

In the silence, I smiled.

Not because it was funny.

But because it was freeing.

The woman I had just met wasn’t my enemy.

She was my reminder.

And I knew then: to truly show up for the people in that room, I had to stop shrinking around my own reflection.

I walked out of that restroom taller, lighter, and more certain than ever of who I was.

Not because everyone knew my name.

But because I remembered myself.

What would the “you” in the mirror say if you stopped to listen? What beliefs do you need to let go of so you can finally stand tall in your truth?

Wishing you a wonderful week of learning and discovery,

Niki Spears

Motivational Speaker, Author, Thought Disrupter