Through the Looking Glass
Reflections, systems, and the start of something honest
"I'm not who I think I am. I'm not who you think I am. I am who I think you think I am."
— Charles Horton Cooley, by way of everyone who’s ever overthought a Slack message.
This is a quote I’ve wrestled with for two decades.
It surfaces in those moments when someone says or does something that makes me question how I’m coming across—not because I’m insecure, but because part of me really wants to know:
How am I being seen here? Am I aligning with the image I want to project?
It’s not vanity (or insanity). It’s just human nature. Sociologists like George Herbert Mead and Charles Horton Cooley explored this over a century ago. Mead called it “taking the role of the other,” while Cooley described it as the “looking-glass self”—the idea that we shape our identities by imagining how others see us and reflecting those perceptions back onto ourselves.
It's the sneaky psychological loop that gets triggered every time someone gives you a raised eyebrow or ambiguous feedback that makes you think…
What happens when those reflections don’t match?
I’ve navigated conflicting feedback about who I am and how I communicate for years. I've had managers say, “You’re not clear enough. Get to the point faster if you want to sit at the big boys’ table.” Meanwhile, others (at that same table) told me, “Your brain is fascinating; someone should study how it works.”
I can see how both might be true. Reconciling these reflections isn’t about choosing one or the other, but figuring out which parts feel true, which reflect others’ expectations, and how I can show up authentically while still growing in areas that need work.
But that’s easier said than done. And social media is a huge culprit in turning imagined judgments into performances that fragment us.
Think about the mirrors we check every day:
LinkedIn says, “Show them you’ve got it together.”
Instagram whispers, “Make it look effortless.”
Reddit chimes in, “Thanks, I hate it.”
The silly part is that most of the pressure doesn’t even come from reality. Cooley said:
“The thing that moves us to pride or shame is not the mere mechanical reflection of ourselves, but an imputed sentiment—the imagined effect of this reflection upon another's mind.”
In her book The Gifts of Imperfection, Brene Brown says showing up authentically doesn’t require perfection—it just requires courage.
What that means to me is that the best thing that any of us can bring to any space—online or offline—is the version of ourselves that’s whole. Which is how we ended up here—starting this project, this…whatever it turns out to be.
This space for me to introduce myself.
I’m Ashley. I'm a technical product and community advocate who hangs out in online chats, gets a little too obsessed with process automation best practices, writes way too many words for a viral post, and laughs at my own jokes.
I’ve spent the last two decades working across roles most people overlook—dispatch, admin, consultant, operator, strategist. I’ve sat in the middle of chaos, and made a career out of translating it into clarity.
Somewhere along the way, I realized a few things:
The best systems are rooted in self-awareness, and are built by those who are more “process curious” than “process perfect”.
Impact comes from knowing how to show up whole. (Especially when the reflections around you are fragmented.)
I needed a place where the full picture could live. Not just the polished posts, or smart-sounding frameworks—but the messy thoughts, the honest questions, and the half-finished drafts of who we’re all trying to become.
I don’t always fit in—but I will always figure it out.
One more thing
If you’ve ever wrestled with how you’re perceived, tried to align who you are with how you’re seen, or just wanted to show up fully without losing your edge—you’re not alone.
The point here isn’t to package this journey, but to share it, and perhaps help someone else feel a little more seen in the mirror.
Thanks for being here.
Ashe