I know some purists believe that only a technically correct photograph has value and that blurry photographs are immediately to be trashed. Well, you may not know this about me (ha!) but I’m not a purist. I’m not tied to any one idea of what’s good or bad, and moreso, I have this thing with blurry photos… I often like them. Like, really like them.
Some of it is definitely about my people-pleasing tendencies… this idea I learned as a child that bending over backwards to do what people want makes it less likely that they’ll hurt you. In that instant at least. It was a survival mechanism and it’s worked so far. Although that’s not to say I still do it. Or that I don’t. Ha!
I guess I sort of apply it to the photo – I don’t want to hurt its feelings. Because yes, didn’t you know? Photographs have feelings.
Some of it is about not wanting to commit by saying a definite no to anyone or anything.
But a lot of it is actually that I just like them. I like that they’re not clear, not obvious, not sharp… that the edges bleed together and things merge, that you can’t always tell what you’re looking at or what’s happening. I like the feeling they sometimes convey – the mystery or the obvious thing that can’t be hidden or glossed over even by a lack of focus.
And I wasn’t afraid. I think, possibly for the first time in my life, I wasn’t afraid at all.
I looked across the room, over the heads of all the surgeons and nurses bent over me, elbows deep in my vagina, pulling out cloth after cloth, soaked in blood and clots the size of golf balls. I could hear the repeated splat as they snapped them into the bucket someone had helpfully brought and set on one of those wheeled trays you eat off of in the hospital. I was in the recovery room, my second born just a few minutes old and held closely in their father’s arms as he stared numbly at the chaotic crowd pulsing around me. I could see he was afraid, terrified even, of losing me, of having these two children I’d always wanted to raise on his own.
But I wasn’t afraid. I knew he’d be fine, that they’d keep each other going and thrive in the huge love they shared together. My family is one of big hearts and fiery passions. I think I was sad about the idea of not getting more time with any of them and especially this baby I wouldn’t get to watch grow up, but it was fleeting, mostly I just wasn’t afraid. I was grateful I’d birthed this baby and this baby was safe. Even though I wound up under the knife again, despite resisting.
My uterus was bleeding and they couldn’t stop it, but I wasn’t afraid. They were in panic – moving fast, eyes wide open and sometimes confusion reigned but I wasn’t drawn into it. I just kept calmly asking them to tell me what they were doing, and reminding them what the last person had done. I was the calm in the center of the storm. I wanted to live, but I wasn’t afraid to die.
So in my post announcing my word for 2017 – I mentioned that I’ll be doing a daily project every month – so each month I’ll be doing something every day, a new habit or learning or whatever. Basically embodying and living my word for the year – B O L D.
So, here we are at the start of the year and so it begins. I’m going easy on myself and starting off with self-portraits. Hahaha. Not easy at all actually. Like many photographers, I’m just not a fan of being in front of the camera. Weird, right? Ha!
Actually, that’s not completely accurate. I think there have been times when I’ve loved being photographed. But for the last few years not so much. It’s not always about not wanting to be in front of it though, so much as having other stuff I’m far more interested in photographing. And really – there’s only so many photographs of a tired, bleary eyed mama in yoga pants and breastmilk stained t-shirt or hoodie that anyone needs in their life.
I have been noticing more and more though, how when we’re going through old photos, C asks where I was and I say, ‘I was there. I was just behind the camera.’ And then we’re both sad about it. So, no more. I’ve been making an effort to get into the frame more and including myself in group shots as well but this is a different.
I want to remember that I’m beautiful and that my beauty has naught to do with how I look, but more how I feel and how I project that into the world. So there it is. After all this, I may get totally sick of it and never want to be in a picture again. Ha! We shall see.
The goal is to do 365 of self-portraits but if I just manage January, I’ll be pleased. We’ll see how I feel by the time February rolls around. Ha!
I’m going to be afraid of doing stuff (I know it) but this year I’m not going to let it stop me from doing it anyway.
To start myself off, I’m working on one new thing every month, for every day of that month.
I’ll do a post at the start of every month talking about what the goal is and then at the end, another to talk about how I did. I’ll make a list below with links so you can see the whole year’s project in one place at the end of it all.
So for the last few years, I’ve been choosing a word for the year that kinda becomes my theme, my thing to work or focus on for the year.
Sometimes I find it really helpful and it keeps me motivated but other years I forget about it or it gets too big, too scary, too overwhelming and then nothing comes of it. Invariably, in those instances, it just becomes one more thing to beat myself up about.
No more! For this coming year, I’m leaning toward ‘forgiveness’. Its something I think the world could do with a little more of and it would certainly serve me. Plus its definitely something I would like my children to be familiar with.
As someone* once said,
‘Resentment is like drinking poison and then expecting the other person to die.’
This is not something I want to keep doing and its definitely not something I want my children to learn from me. This Forbes article titled the above quote describes the cost of resentment well.
What many seem to fail to understand is that forgiving someone is not the same as accepting, condoning or colluding with someone or their actions. In fact, it is actually for you, not for the one you’re forgiving. It helps you to move on from the past, from holding on to the grudge and allows space for you to accept reality and make a choice that serves you.
Do it for you. You are worthy, you are enough. I am!
*I believe it was Malachy McCourt but I have heard it attributed to various sources over the years.