Tag: fear

life

fear is nonsense

A Graceful Catastrophe

The other day I wrote about how I couldn’t possibly wrap my head around the idea that I am an artist. To me, the power that that word holds is simply magical. The people I have given the title of “Artist” are truly magical beings who are masters at their craft.

And then, out of the blue, someone whom I hadn’t seen in over 6 months, excitedly sat down with me and, seeming rather sad while she said I hadn’t emailed any more of my photography to her. She’s been waiting to see me to see my work again. As she was speaking to me, she referred to me as an artist. Now, she hadn’t read my blog or understood the rabbit hole of thought after thought I’d been diving down recently. She just spoke from her heart. And she said that what I do moves her. She said when she sees my photographs, something within her actually pulsates and she is drawn into the photo.

She said that about me. About my work. It took everything to fight back the tears that were forming. She spoke about ME with this almost reverent tone. She thought of me and my work how I think about other artists. And it was all completely unsolicited, which, for me, adds incredible value to the way I can absorb it as truth.

So, perhaps I was struggling with referring to myself as an artist because of the fear behind the power of that word. If I am an artist, that carries more pressure and more weight. If I am an artist, then I have a certain expectation to live up to (self-imposed, of course).

But, I am realizing that that is nonsense.

And…to at least one other person, what I do does evoke a sense of magic and wonder in her. I mean, to hear this woman talk about my work was exactly the way I have spoken about people I look at with wide-eyed wonder regarding their craft.

I don’t think she’ll ever quite understand what she did for me, but I think it’s quite likely I’ll carry that conversation in my heart for the rest of my days. And whenever I doubt my own magic, I’ll recall her eyes and her tone, along with her words, as she spoke to me.

Thank you, Leslie, for being so genuine and for sharing your unfiltered enthusiasm about me – as an artist. Because now I do believe I carry that title.

I am an artist.

May we all know a “Leslie” who can remind us of the magic that we carry within, especially when we can’t see it for ourselves…

life

5 years ago, and a lifetime

A Graceful Catastrophe

A Facebook memory popped up today that made my blood run cold. I literally got goosebumps as I read the words and remembered who I was 5 years ago.

There was a list of something that, man, I wish I knew what it was now, but apparently a good bit of that list resonated with me. And so, without any hesitation or understanding of what I was publicly saying, I wrote those words, and posted my thoughts.

I had no trust in my own capacity and freely told that to my FB community without understanding exactly how vulnerable that whole post was. (Now, I post super vulnerable and raw blogs with the full realization that that is exactly what I am doing.) And you know what is even crazier? I only JUST had that lack of self trust epiphany a few months ago in therapy. I had no idea that I’ve been living this life completely ignoring my internal voice because I didn’t trust it. *woah*

At least now I’m self aware and can work at regaining trust in my own self again – after decades of it being lost. And that’s probably why this memory stopped me cold today.

I still hesitate when listening to my gut. I still completely disregard that little voice. But now it’s quite transparent what I am doing and I can learn how to adjust my mindset and rebuild trust in myself again. Which is pretty cool, I think…to be able to understand I have an area of growth and I can choose to actually better myself through it…

You know, I haven’t written in ages. My life has changed dynamically from when I first started writing here. My ex and I have grown to be very close friends and I adore his partner – she’s a great mom and I’m grateful for her influence in my daughter’s life. What a 180!

And I have changed – so much. I went to Greece (I’m sure I wrote about this experience in an earlier blog), alone, just over a year after I’d written that fear laden Facebook post. I flew there to attend a private photography workshop (so I could learn how to use my camera) with 2 complete strangers, who were both men. And after I learned all the things from them, I spent 2 or 3 days in Athens all by myself. And on my very first day in Greece, with those two strangers (now turned good friends), I got a tattoo with the words, “strong, capable, enough.”

Because I was. I am. I always have been.

Others may not always treat me in ways that make me feel that I am strong, capable, or enough for them but I’m pretty sure it’s because I haven’t been strong, capable, or enough for myself – as is obvious in my old post.

But, little by little, I’m getting there. I’m more self aware now than ever in my life, and that’s got to count for something, right?

I am now a photographer as my profession, which brings my trip to Greece full circle. I’m just starting out, really, and attended my first photography conference just about 3 weeks ago. I went alone and without knowing a single soul. And there wasn’t any part of me that was afraid in any way. I was SO excited.

Me. The girl who was afraid of the outdoors after dark. Who was afraid of going to the grocery store, and who would never, ever dream of trusting herself to her own safety.

And, wow. Just wow. What happened in those 4 days changed me. Like, not just mentally, with everything I learned, and not just emotionally, with everyone I met, but on a true soul level. The me who was me on September 9 is no longer the me that is sitting here today. It was THAT dynamic.

Every single thing that happened during that conference helped me to grow. I respond to situations differently now than I would have before, had I experienced the same exact situation. I know how the old me would have responded. And I rather like how the new me is responding.

This new me values herself in a way that feels subtle on the outside (for now), but is churning, growing slowly, much like a wildfire, deep within. I feel this spark that was ignited there and it’s growing and, I’ve got to say, I’m really liking it.

It’s funny how pivotal moments to my whole “soul being” have occurred around photography. First in Greece, and now this past conference. The people in this industry are truly something special…and the connection was immediate and wild and beautiful and intense and unimaginable. Truly.

If I were still that woman (I want to say girl) from 5 years ago, I never would have gone to Greece and met 2 incredibly exceptional men who unbeknownst to any of us, jump started the career I am in today.

If I were still that woman from 5 years ago, I never would have been brave enough or ambitious enough to participate in a photography conference in another state and with absolutely no existing connection, no anchor, nobody to “keep me safe.”

That is one thing that has changed, thankfully. I feel entirely and perfectly capable of keeping my own self safe in public. I may still have trust issues with my internal voice, but there is NOTHING stopping me from diving head first into new experiences. Especially ones that will help me grow on multiple levels. Before, fear controlled so much of my life, but now, I am just so excited to see what growth occurs over the next 5 years from experiences created by being strong, capable, and enough…

And you! Well, I’ll leave you with this. If you are living in fear and doubt, to the extent that you avoid actually living a remarkable life – like I was – I invite you to do something that you would consider brave (just keep it safe, obviously). It may be something tiny to an outsider, but start showing yourself exactly who you are. You never know what kind of wildfire that small spark could ignite.

The lesson for myself in all this? I am, in fact, strong, capable, and enough. If for nobody else but myself.

And that is more than enough.

life

3.4 Miles

A Graceful Catastrophe

When I saw the sign that said, “Ouray KOA,” I grinned and cheered. Like, for real. There was actual fist pumping happening in my car. I’d done it!! I made my first solo drive…my first drive through the mountains. And it was snowy at times, and visibility wasn’t great, and other times the roads were dry and it was smooth sailing. And I did it.

Then, 3.4 miles from my hotel, I was overcome by emotion. I couldn’t believe I’d done it.

I know I’ve come a long way in the days since March 17th. My growth has truly been exponential . It started off slow, and rocky, and…okay, okay, it was non-existent. My first several months afterwards I didn’t want to experience my reality. I wanted to ignore it. And I did just about anything I could to escape it.

When you ignore your reality, you can’t exactly grow.

And that’s absolutely okay. I was in survival mode. That was all I could hang on to – just take one more breath, girl. You can do this. One breath at a time.

And then, one magical day, I was ready.

And I took off.

Today, I’m a new me. Someone who sits alone at a bar in a strange city and happily eats her food, smiling to herself every now and then, not giving a care in the world.

I’m someone who drives through the snowy mountains because there’s a city she’s waited to go to for years and years and she’s done waiting for someone else to bring her here.

I’m done waiting. Period. If I want it, I will figure out a way to do it. Because I’m alive and breathing and that’s all the reason I need.

I’m also still learning. Sure, I’ve come a long way. I believe it never ends, though. There are always ways I can improve. Things I can nurture and refine. I’m finding the balance between pushing myself and simply marinating in the moment. I haven’t quite figured that out yet. I tend to live by the rule it’s either all or it’s nothing. Do it right the first time or don’t do it at all. I’m all in. Or I’m out. And I’m learning that perhaps there’s a better, more delicate space to land…perhaps.

In Greece, I learned a lesson that just because you can, doesn’t mean you should. My whole purpose of going to Greece, though, was to prove to myself that I can. So, I did. And then I thought I was good. I had countless epiphanies over there. My very energy changed. I didn’t have anything left to prove to myself.

Or so I thought.

So, let me back up a minute. Give you some context. Yesterday I left for a road trip through the mountains…with my front wheel drive Mini Cooper…through a minor snowstorm. I decided to embark on yet another solo journey, this magnificent road trip, because I’ve realized I still have more I want to prove to myself. I still have fears that require facing. Insecurities. Doubts.

I absolutely hate doubting myself.

So, I booked this trip. And, after much fret and worry, finally took off. Goodness, I’m less than 24 hours into this trip and I’m already grateful I didn’t back out.

As I looked out on the scenery during the drive, I noticed all the variety of shades of white that exist in nature. It was just white on white on white. In front of me, all around me, surrounding me. Just white. It was stunning.

I drank it in. Really experienced where I was. And I was in no hurry whatsoever. I took detours to take pictures. I saw bighorn sheep!!

Don’t miss out on the beauty that surrounds you because you’re afraid to open your eyes.

I took so many deep breaths. Just so I could exhale. I needed to exhale the voices in my head. The ones that told me I was incapable. And then I spent some time talking to myself, rather than wasting time listening to those voices. This time, the incapability was of driving in the snow. I’ve been told many times that I can’t drive in the snow, or that I shouldn’t drive in the snow. And, I have also had many circumstances where I’ve proven to myself that maybe I shouldn’t ever drive in the snow. I don’t know what I’m doing. It’s been told to me and then reinforced. I can’t do it.

Which is exactly why I’m here today, having driven not only through the snow, but through snow covered roads, with limited visibility at times, over winding s-curved mountain passes.

Face my fear. I’m all in. I know no other way.

So, this is why, 3.4 miles away from my hotel, I lost it. The tears simply struck and didn’t let up for several minutes. It was the release I needed. Another fear conquered. Another lesson learned. I can do scary things. And survive.

And then reflect and realize there was nothing scary about it after all.

So, here, now, I encourage you. Do something that scares you. Something you’ve avoided because you keep listening to the voices in your head rather than talking to yourself. Create your new narrative. It isn’t as scary as you’re making it out to be.

I promise.


life

Eating the Elephant

A Graceful Catastrophe

You know, there just isn’t any guidebook for how to deal with trauma. When you see someone going through something difficult, you sometimes *try to* put yourself in their shoes. Sometimes people make judgments on how the other person is responding or how they would do it differently. Other people seem rather fascinated and can’t even begin to understand how the person is coping “so well.”

In reality, you just don’t know until you go through it – and even then you have no idea how to process life.

For me, I’ve been processing by choosing to escape. I haven’t wanted to face my reality because the rare moments where I couldn’t avoid them were crippling. So I did what I could to bury it further. The pain from the discovery on March 17 has really, quite honestly, been impossible to bear.

But I think it was because I was trying to face it all at once. I thought I had to eat the elephant in one bite, so to speak. I thought I had to look at my pain, all of it, and try to process it as a whole.

That idea was beyond overwhelming. To think that I had to try and understand what was going on inside my head, to sit down and pick apart the betrayal and agony one layer at a time until it had all been chewed up and spit back out, was inconceivable!

But I thought that’s how it was supposed to be done. Just face your fears, right? Why wouldn’t the same idea apply to facing your trauma?

And do you know how absolutely and genuinely terrifying that is? And I mean “terrifying” by its exact definition: “causing extreme fear,” as Google’s dictionary says. “Extreme,” guys. Not just regular, run of the mill fear, but extreme. Again, thank you Google dictionary for defining “extreme” for us: reaching a high or the highest degree.

I had reached the highest degree of fear and was sprinting away as quickly as I could. I was never suicidal, thankfully, but I didn’t want to live this life. I wanted, desperately, to run away. So I could pretend that this wasn’t my reality. How could this be my reality? How could I ever trust again? There are, I’m sorry, were, two men in my life that I blindly trusted. My dad and my now ex-husband. How could he do what he did, day in and day out, for almost a year, all while coming home and complaining about what an awful wife I was? And let’s not forget about how he sat in marriage counseling and complained about how awful I was there, only to turn around and tell his Ashley Madison lovelies all about our therapy sessions.

Yeah, I wanted to run. Far and fast. How could that have been my life?!

At first, I thought I could handle everything with grace. Of course you should give grace to those who least deserve it. Well, that’s all fine and dandy when you’re in the denial stage of grief. There wasn’t a ton of grace to be given during the anger stage! I don’t know if you can see the hashtags on my blogs, but if you can, and you take a look back, there’s a definite moment where I stopped using the hashtag “living life with class and grace and muscles.” Because I was only living life with muscles.

I was angry a lot of the time, which I preferred to sadness. Sadness shut me down. Sadness made me want to hide under the covers and never, ever move again. Anger, though, anger made me feel alive! I could still laugh when I was angry. I could put up a front and live in the moment and feel free of my reality.

But, that’s not exactly the most healthy way to live…

Like I wrote in yesterday’s blog, there’s a distinct shift occurring within. I couldn’t pinpoint it yesterday but I can today.

The last 2 months, while wild and fun, have still felt empty. I have felt so empty and I have been trying, in vain, to fill that void.

But when the wild and crazy calmed down, I was left feeling emptier still. I’ve never done ecstasy or Molly but I feel like my last 2 months resemble what I’ve heard those highs – and lows – are like. From what I understand, when under the influence, you feel euphoric. But then when it starts to wear off, the coming down from it is one of the worst things ever.

That’s how my life has been. I have a blast going out with my friends, or going out on dates, but when it’s all said and done, my reality is that I’m still alone, trying to process a trauma so great that it has been both exhausting and crippling. And simply too excruciating to face.

There has been very minimal light and the darkness definitely won for some time.

But I had the most amazing session with my therapist Thursday of last week and he gave me permission that I don’t have to face my reality all at once. What?! I don’t?! Oh, my goodness, halle-freaking-lujah!!

Do you know that I felt about a million times lighter after that? I can just live. I don’t have to sit down and spend hours – or days – doing nothing else except focusing on sorting out all the emotions! I can walk through life and just live. And when something triggers me, I can feel sad. I can honor that emotion, that moment, process it for what it’s worth, and then move on. I don’t have to linger there and go deeper and try to understand how it applies to the 34 thousand other layers of pain. I can just process that piece. I can eat the elephant one bite at a time.

Life. Changing.

Friday night was like my grand farewell to the last 2 months. It was probably the wildest, most uninhibited night I’ve ever had. And probably the most fun.

Saturday morning I awoke with a distinct shift in my mindset.

I want more.

I don’t want to feel empty anymore. I also don’t feel the need to escape anymore. Now that I know I don’t have to swallow this elephant whole, I am no longer terrified.

Guys. I am no longer terrified of my reality.

I fully understand what this means for me…it means that I can finally begin to heal.

And that makes me smile.

As I write this, it is June 17th. At 6:08 tonight, while I was out with my girls for dinner, I hit the 3 month mark exactly.

It makes me laugh to think it’s only been 3 months. A lifetime has occurred in these last 3 months! And I’m sure I’m in for a million more changes and ups and downs in the next 3 months.

There’s no doubt my mindset will continue to flex and change as the time progresses. If nothing else, I give myself permission to continue riding this wave, to allow it to guide me through this next phase. At least now, I am facing the challenges ahead unafraid.

This elephant will be eaten – eventually. And I’m giving myself permission to do so one nibble at a time.

life

Class & Grace

A Graceful Catastrophe

When the shit hits the fan, it splatters all over everything. Some days it just feels like you accidentally stepped a toe in it. Some days it feels like you’re drowning in it, gagging on it with every breath you try to take.

Today, I’m drowning.

There are exactly 86,400 seconds in a day. I’m sleeping somewhere around 5 or 6 hours a night lately, so let’s subtract 21,600 seconds (6 hours). That’s 64,800 waking seconds. That means that I have to remind myself to live with class and grace about 3,240 times every day. That’s about 3 times a minute.

Okay, I may be exaggerating a smidge, but not by much.

It is a constant battle, raging inside, to be gracious, to be understanding and compassionate…. I’ve learned today that sometimes not causing my (ex) husband any physical pain is actually an act of class and grace. Sometimes I have to very loosely define what it is to act with class and grace, and I have also learned that loose definitions are okay.

On good days, acting with a bit of a higher bar, a more classic definition of class and grace, is simple. Some days, it’s really so easy. Some days I feel like we really could be friends, that he can live right there in the basement for the next 8 years. And then some days, like today, my interactions with him are anything but classy and I think it’d be great if he left right this second. And then there are those days where I think one way for 5 minutes, another way for the next 20 minutes, and then I’m a puddle, crying for the next 30. I have very little control over anything right now, much less my emotions. I’m just kind of along for the ride.

Which is why I have to be intentional and tell myself about 3,240 times a day to give grace. More often than not, it’s usually said out loud, in a stern voice, and with significant volume.

Acting with class and grace through this, while trying to raise a strong, independent, and happy child, sometimes feels like the most impossible thing to do. I have worked my tail off for almost 9 years to make sure I am raising her right. So far, so good. My daughter is caring, clever, and has lofty goals, with even bigger dreams. It is my absolute nightmare that anything that is going on around her undoes all of my hard work.

Let me explain really quickly why I say “my hard work” because that was intentionally written. I was chatting with a friend these last few days and she calls it “being the heavy.” I have done the vast majority of the hard stuff for my daughter’s whole life. I am consistent, predictable, and firm. And she has thrived. I am not the “fun parent.” I do the “heavy lifting.” I’m the one raising a child into someone who will be a productive member of our society. I mean, she wants to go to MIT! The road to MIT starts now and she understands fully that actions have consequences. I’ve told her since she was barely a toddler that “good things happen to people who make good decisions…and the opposite of that is also true.”

So, she works hard to make good decisions. My greatest fear is that I will inadvertently ruin the work of the last almost 9 years by mishandling this situation. I’m an adult and am having a hard enough time processing what is happening! How in the world will she end up absorbing the end of her parent’s marriage? Thankfully, she is being spared the details, but you hear all the time how divorce changes children, and because she has no clue why, it’s all very sudden and confusing to her.

Which is why I initially thought it’d be best for my daughter to have daddy around, still living in the house, even though that is the most difficult thing for me. I can’t stand seeing him. I see a stranger where my husband once was. He’s not even remotely close to the person I thought he was – in fact, he’s exactly the person I was convinced he’d never be. And I have to see him anytime he’s not traveling for business and for now, that’s just about the hardest, most awful thing for me.

But then I see my daughter’s happiness when she sees him here first thing in the morning. And all that felt impossible feels possible once again. For her. So she is minimally affected. It’s not about me, really. I’m an adult with an incredible community. I can suck it up. And while my daughter may be able to as well, I just don’t know that for certain. So, for now, he stays. I’m the heavy. And because I’m the heavy, every decision I make is run through the filter of how it will affect my daughter. It’s all for her.

Which is exactly what has kept me from lashing out against my (ex) husband. Thank you, my sweet child of mine. And I’m sure your daddy thanks you, too. It’s quite shocking, really. I never thought I’d be someone capable of even thinking about hurting a living being but extreme trauma and pain make you think in some really intense ways. So, for today, the simple decision to not act upon the desire to cause great physical pain is the loose definition of me acting with class and grace. It’s all I can muster at this point.

Thankfully, I know tomorrow will be a better day because tomorrow will be a busy one, as I get back into my routine and away from vacation mode. Busy is good. And because mindset is everything, it will be one where more hope lies, one where I will once again believe with all my heart that children are resilient and I won’t “ruin” my daughter with whatever decisions I make regarding this messy, shitty situation.

Hopefully tomorrow, only a toe gets in the shit.