Lying in the grass

Oh the backyard clover…

I lay there in the grass, plush comforter underneath my body, soft, fluffy clouds drifting by over my head. The air was as soft as cotton sheets wrapped around me and smelled like the spring of my childhood - sweet and perfumed with freshly cut grass, late season iris blooms and honeysuckle.

I noticed things in the grass I don’t take the time to look at anymore. I noticed tiny ants marching along in line with one another - not so aimlessly, but almost on a mission. I noticed caterpillars munching on garden leaves and busy bees buzzing around clover blooms. Taking their time to drink it all in.

I moved with the sun…out of it when it was too much. Into it when I needed it’s warmth.

I thought about all these things I used to do. When I was younger, more free, unencumbered by life. I used to linger over the little things. When did I get so busy? Why is there so much information in my face all the time? Where did all these useless emails to answer come from? When did I become a grown up? And why-oh-why can’t I make decisions as solidly as I did as a little girl?

When did I get so lost?

Maybe the choices were easier back then. Grape or orange soda? Hot dog or tuna fish sandwich? Play a game inside or tag outside? Maybe I am lost in the complexity of life. Choices feel bigger now…a sort of life-or-death situation.

---

I lay there all day that day, unable to get up and unwilling to move. Paralyzed by life and what had come of it. I lingered all afternoon - swept up in the most basic pleasures of the world. Sitting in the sunshine looking for 4 leaf clovers. Drinking ice cold tea from a glass with a straw. At ease.

I thought of my younger self a lot that day. How hurt she was. How lost she had been and become. I thought of her and how she never thought she had any help. Maybe she didn’t want help…or didn’t know how to ask for it. Maybe she only wanted certain kinds of help. The kind of help that was on her terms…not the kind of help that the youngest person in the family gets which is always unsolicited and condescending.

That little girl in me laid there all afternoon…thinking about things…crying sometimes…curiously searching for 4 leaf clovers…did they even exist? Why are they so hard to find? Why are the good things so elusive?

---

How do we get so far off course? When do we lose our curiosity…our sense of play and wonder? Is it when we are trying to fit into the scheme of life in our teens, desperately not trying to call attention to ourselves. Or maybe it happens when we watch others. We begin the complexity of wanting.

We are paralyzed in our want these days. The trap of wanting is a real thing. At my age, I don’t care as much as I used to. I am comfortable enough in my surroundings and I am at the end of the search for accepting myself. So life seems okay.

So, the question is this: why am I pushing so hard and what exactly am I pushing? Should I just walk away? Will it all come crashing down?

---

It’s good to watch the rhythm of life every now and again…lie in the grass and just watch the ants marching to their nests and the bees buzzing around collecting nectar. For me, the best thing I can do now is to watch the seasons begin as I observe gently as the other ends. It gives me balance in my brain…a recognition that things always change and life always has a way of continuing on just as it needs to. Even when those ants are lugging around things bigger than them, they seem to know when to put it down, when to signal for help, or just when to stop. Even when the bee is fed up of searching for it’s nectar, it knows just how and where to rest and take a moment.

Maybe the answers are in slowing down. Laying in the grass. Letting that little girl inside me get what she deserves - peace, simple pleasures, rest, and stillness - so she can quit trying to be the adult here and run a show that is too big for her.

Time for a break. Time to rest.

Oh, to be 18 again...

I don’t get to do a lot of senior photos. I love this age group though. It’s a special time where these people are primed for their next phase of life - whatever that may be. They are fairly confident at this point…in as much as an 18 year old can be. And they are simply ready for their next steps.

This senior shoot I did the other day was special. I have known this family casually for about 15 or more years and met this young lady when she was just a tot. We haven’t crossed paths many times, but it’s been nice to see her grow - both in person and virtually. She’s as lovely as they come and exactly who I wish I was at her age: smart, interesting, athletic, and outgoing. Unencumbered by opinions and life at this point.

We all got to talking on the shoot (if you know me at ALL, the shoot is more chatting about life really than the shooting)…her mother and I lamenting about “Oh…to be 18 again” as one does.

I told them there would be things I would change. Of course. There are some things I would change about my life. Mostly I am happy with how things turned out.

I am not one to dole out advice to anyone - new moms, young people about to embark on a new chapter. Some of that you have to figure out on your own. But I somehow decided to say this one thing…in hopes to remind us all to stop the madness.

I turned to her and said “If I could give you one piece of advice, it would be this: Stop worrying about the externals and focus more on the internals. Worry less about the outside of you, the outside world, the things out of your control, and focus on your insides….your mental health, physical well being, your learning and knowledge, how YOUR body works and where YOU find peace.”

I have been fighting this battle my whole life. Worrying about others. Worrying about what I looked like. Trying to control shit that is LITERALLY out of my control completely.

I would listen to others less and trust myself more. This is my ship - my vessel - and it’s mine to control. Not anyone else’s. I am leaning into this now - in phase 2 of my life. It’s been a hard lesson to learn because I have knotted so many pieces up involving the outside world. So when I don’t have peace, It’s because I have a knot connected somewhere OTHER than with myself.

I hope for my sake I can take my own advice. I hope I find the peace this lovely human seems to have been born with…the calm, the confidence, the clarity.

Oh to be 18 again…

Pushing my Limits

I have been pushing my limits this year.

Not to toot my own horn…none of these things have been life altering boundaries or obstacles. But I have continued to do the things that I thought were beyond me. I overcome some pretty big hurdles that I kept me in the zone of “this can’t be done” and pushed me right over to the “well look at me go!” side of things.

Honestly, I am surprising myself.

Most of it has been professional….and a few personal hurdles have been scattered around there. What I find most jarring though all this growth is how stuck I am in so many old beliefs…those old stories that just don’t seem to want to quit nagging my brain.

Why can’t I see that they are just like the email I got about a button not working on a website or incorporating new techniques into video edits. All these things are just challenges…little and large puzzles to be solved.

I guess it all sums up to what we give power to. The things that we feel small around are often the things that make us run and hide like a little girl hearing overhearing her parents arguing or a dog looking for it’s safe place a thunderstorm.

I am working hard at unlocking the puzzle of power within my own self this year. Things I want to know are things like where and when we hand it over, why we feel powerless, what makes us quake in our boots, and mostly, how to grab it back. What I don’t want is to feel a toddler fighting to get back his little toy train. I want to stand with presence in the face of fear…a calm knowing that I can bravely reclaim myself, my space, and my bravery.

All so I can just simply reclaim my power.

Easter Sunday

Sweet little Easter eggs, just waiting to be made into something magical…

Today is Easter Sunday.

It’s one of my favorite days of the year. Or…it used to be.

There is something so magical about this time of year. Flowers blooming. Gardens changing. Easter baskets. Egg hunts. Brunches with mimosas and family. And the symbolism of rebirth is all around us. It’s just very special to me.

But lately - especially this year - I am spending Easter Sunday a bit differently. My son is grown and at a concert this weekend. My fiance is spending time with his aging parents today. My best friend is on a European adventure. And the rest of my family is…well…doing their own thing I guess.

One thing spring harkens is that change is evident. Always. And nothing shows this phenomonon better than Easter. Expect the unexpected is the clear message we get on this day. Miracles abound. But somehow, today has felt less than miraculous and a little more regular and mundane.

So I am spending the afternoon looking for a different kind of magic. I am searching for small miracles. Messages from my son saying he’s fine and on the way home. New plants growing out in the garden. And the bluebirds that have been hanging around my yard today singing songs of joy. It’s a sunny, clear, gorgeous day that I can only be thankful for - despite all the changes that have settled in.

And all I hear in my heart now is this clear and vibrant message: “Life is right here outside your door, my love. It’s playing a game of hide and seek with you. Come out and play.”

March 16, 2024

ENGAGED!

A long time ago, I felt like I got lost along the way. And with the heaviness of life and the burdens of the world, I stayed there…for a long time. I trudged along hoping to find a way back - back to the light with my pack of misfits. Each day, we got deeper into a path that nobody knew how to navigate. Wild, overgrown, and disorienting, I searched for a way out if it all. But through the mud as I marched on, things got heavier, darker…more confusing. And my guiding lights lost their glow, growing dimmer and dimmer over my shoulder until one day I couldn’t see anything clearly.

Suddenly it was dark…and I was lost.

And then, there was a little light around me. Always there… in the background like an ember that never quite wanted to give up, there you were…glowing and warm and ready to help. You appeared like a flash in a dream I once had. You came stumbling into this little rag tag group of renegades and you simply said “Y’all just follow me.”

Nothing scared you off. Nothing ever does. You always run towards the fire, not away from it. You didn’t fear any of it. Not the brokenness or the tattered parts. Not the fear in my eyes nor the desperation in my heart. You stood, unflapped, calm, and sure of it all…sure of us. From the very beginning, it just felt safe and warm and easy - like my old teapot bathrobe or that ragged old blanket you cover yourself with each morning while you sip on steamy coffe from one of your mugs. And you let all my stuff become a part of you - for better or worse. All my broken pieces. You never walked away…even when you were scared of it all, you held my hand and I looked into your eyes for that steadiness I needed.

And here we are…finding our way in this world, bringing all the characters along for this wild ride…mainly because they all make it better. Messier. Louder. More interesting. And more adventurous. What a ride. And this is just the beginning.

---

I am lucky for your light…the path we are forging isn’t easy. But what I realize now is that maybe I wasn’t really ever lost. Maybe all this time what I thought was no direction was just me looking for a new route – a new path to a new way of life…moving together to our very own brave, new world. One that adds and doesn’t subtract. One that celebrates and tolerates. One that forgives and moves on. One that supports, builds.

One that loves. Big love. Shameless love. Huge love.

Johnny. I am so lucky. I am so happy to have you in my life.

Let’s go plan that forever party now. It’s gonna be so fun!

Good enough.

The Daffodils are here.

Things are new. Fresh again. The spring is bringing me messages more clear than a sunny winter sky these days…sunshiney as the daffodils peeking out at me with their bright happy faces.

I am now focused on what matters most. You see, I have spent the better part of my life focused on the wrong stuff. Things like what I look like. Or how much I weigh. Or how many calories I have consumed on any given day.

Our society counts on us not feeling like we are enough as we are. Because if we were enough, what would happen? If you weighed enough and your teeth were white enough and your pants were a perfect size…what would happen?

Or rather, what COULD happen?

For starters, I think we’d be content with what is in front of us and focus in on the things that matter to us most. Things like sunrises and sunsets, flowers and new foliage blooming in our own back yards, or food and fellowship with those we love most. The little things. The beautiful things.

We would be less focused on our aging faces or those big bellies we acquired somewhere along the way. We would be content to be as we are…as things are…as life is.

I am all for improving ourselves. But I think I got lost somewhere on this path thinking the improvements had to be external. Or visible to anyone. The changes have to come more with the reality of life…the reality of how small we really are. The reality that right here, right now is good enough.

The flowers don’t feel like they aren’t doing enough. They know they are okay. They live for each moment. They go dormant when they need rest and thrive when the conditions are good enough.

Not perfect. But good enough.

And so here we all are. Standing on the precipice of change, evolution, and everything that happens and has been happening. And it’s all been good enough.

So this spring. I beg of you - of me - to let this all just be good enough…as it is.

Watching with Curiosity.

It's not his birthday. It's not a holiday or a milestone in life. This isn't a special time to celebrate him. But I need to and I want to... every.single.day.

I've never been a parent that is sick of my kid. I have never lamented how hard things are as we raise children. It ain't easy - this I know. But truth be told, I have always wanted to be his parent. From the moment I played with my first doll as a tot. I was destined to be a mom.

Not just A MOM...but HIS MOM.

I don't regret a moment of parenting him...or the family I have chosen.

He told me recently he felt like he is the black sheep of the family. I turned to him, chuckled, and said "well welcome to the flock...there are plenty of us here. You fit right in." IYKYK

Parenting is hard. All the college deans' lists going around and awards that kids receive. remind me that this human doesn't get the recognition he deserves.

He is a kind human. He is a fantastically curious human. A thoughtful and emotional human. An incredibly smart human. He's doing his best, but he is not afraid to grow. He knows this thing called life is an imperfect science and that life is about finding out more, trying harder, and growing bigger with each experience.

So while he searches for answers, I will be here for him. I will celebrate him at every turn and twist of life. All I can do is wait patiently, watch with curiosity, and love unconditionally. That's all we can ever do. That's all we ever need from each other. Honesty. Love. Patience. Kindness.

Happy Place

This is my happy place.

I come here when I need to feel peace. I love it most in the winter when there are few people taking up space and I can feel the expansiveness of the universe - of myself - in the open. Summertime it takes on a different vibe with music humming, moms calling out for their kids, busy shell seekers and lots of sun worshippers out there for revelry and merry-making.

But the beach in winter is a different thing…a spiritual place full of wide open spaces to breathe, think, be.

Winter is a perfect time to dig into these parts of me. The world is hibernating, collecting energy for what’s to come. Spring is always around the corner here, ready to leap out and celebrate with us. Ready to show us what’s possible when we rest and reflect. So it’s no wonder I am drawn time and time again back to the beach in winter. Deep breathing and reflection is what I need - especially right now.

The ocean always tells me what I need to hear. It reminds me that everything happens in cycles, the push and pull will remain there - regardless of how much I fight it. And each time that tide recedes, treasures reveal themselves. Regardless if you can see them or not, despite their size or value…they are still treasures just below the surface waiting and wanting to be revealed.

The beach reminds me that the sands will shift and change - water, wind, and weather make this happen daily. The shoreline will become unrecognizable at times. But things always take their shape. It is always going to be there….as a guide. And when you stand still for too long on that waters edge, you need to change that footing or the sea will do it for you.

The sea opens my heart in ways I wasn’t aware of most of my life. It feels like it’s a direct portal to the universe - full of lessons and love and things that light up my soul in ways I can only imagine some feel attending church on a Sunday with their tribe of like-minded souls. It’s where I am closest to myself and the universe…everything mystical seems possible at the beach on a winter afternoon. Peace. Love. Presence.

So if you need me in the near future, you can find me here. Just taking a few deep breaths and finding my scale in the grand scheme of life here…just like the rest of the grains of sand under my bare feet.

Calming those stormy seas.

I set out to write a lot this month. A blog post, journal entry or social media post each day was the goal. Writing is very cathartic for me in so many ways. It helps me process and organize the wild thoughts churning around in my stormy mind.

Come to find out, the universe had some other plans for me.

Stomach bugs, hospital visits, and other life emergencies really just grabbed me by the throat this year. A mega force tightened around my jugular shoving my back against the wall so I was unable to move. I felt controlled by a bully so much larger than me all I could do was surrender.

So I leaned into it. I waved the white flag. Healing myself and being there for what and who I could was the only option. Perhaps this wasn’t bullying at all. Perhaps this was the universe demanding I take some downtime to focus on myself and those that I love. And pleading with me to just give my brain a little space and time to figure a few things out.

I have been running on high anxiety for a while now. You’d never know it if you met me or had a regular conversation with me. I fake it all pretty well. But the slightest thing goes out of balance and my insides begin to collapse like a wild avalanche. Its a daily practice for me to manage this level of worry. I have a pretty good recipe of good nutrition, rest, breathing, meditation, walking…the list goes on. But the feelings are always there - just below the surface - waiting to bury me alive.

---

It’s been a week of this virus that refuses to release it’s grip on me. But I can finally see the light. Fever free and calming down. The tight, jugular-squeezing grip loosening ever more each day.

Over the past few weeks, I have had some time to think and clear my head. I have learned that all of the worrying and angsting I am doing (and have done my entire life) is pretty much for nothing. Nothing gets solved. Nothing changes or gets better. It just makes the present so much harder.

I set a goal for the year - or if I am being fully transparent, a goal for the rest of my LIFE. I am going to quell the storm inside me. I want to deprogram that flight response…even just a little bit. I want to let my inner child know she’s safe and doesn’t have to drive this ship anymore. It’s not her responsibility anymore. It’s mine. And I’ve got this shit.

I have never felt worse at the start of a new year. I have also never felt better. There are other things at play here…things I’ll get into at a later date. But right now, despite this rough and stormy start, I somehow feel that things are gonna be okay in the end…kinda like when you see catch that sunset right after a storm blows through.

So if you need me, you can find me where that sun sets after that storm. That’s where I will be resting.

Love, Libby

I am ready for her to be free…I know she is too!

It’s 9:30 PM. I am 8 years old and not in bed yet. My mom stumbled up the stairs earlier and my father sits on the adjacent couch watching something on TV with me. We are silent.

I walk upstairs to bed. My mom isn’t there. She is sleeping on the toilet. I wake her up and put her to bed. Kiss her and tell her I love her.

I am 8.

This happened for years. And to a young girl, it felt wrong. I knew it was wrong. I knew something wasn’t right.

I navigated this for years alone in my head. Nobody talked about my mom’s problems. So i just managed on my own. A sister who didn’t live at home. Another who was too busy being a hormonal teenager to be bothered with anyone but friends. And a father who was so blinded by a peculiar balance of complete adoration and resentment to my mother that I could literally feel it in my bones.

I was alone. And scared.

That hasn’t left me. If I am being honest, I have never felt safe. I am anxious about life most days, waiting desperately for the house of cards I live in to come crashing down on my head – so fragile, a cool breeze could come by and ruin it all.

But I forget to look at the bigger picture sometimes: I am ok.

I have never been less than okay. So I need to learn to trust this life and the process.

Growing up in dysfunction makes you feel uneasy. I went through life like this. When things looked normal on the outside, I was most likely faking it. As a matter of fact, I still do. But there are times where it becomes unrealistic to continue to fake it. Because deep into my core, I am a HORRIBLE liar and an EXCELLENT oversharer.

I have let that scared little girl have the drivers seat all my life. Sure I have shimmied the wheel away from her clutches at times. I made grown up decisions without her. But she always creeps back into the drivers seat. She didn’t know how not to drive. She’d been doing it her whole life.

Letting her rest and being the grown up she always needed is my life’s work. I am forever not wanting control. Neither one of us is a very proficient driver anyhow. But every day I try to show up for me and her so we can both feel at ease in our skin.

So, little girl, go play…rest…be free. And know that you are safe within me.

Love, Libby

Thirty days.

Turning over that new leaf…

For the past few years, I have abandoned my desire to create some sort of “resolution.” I often feel too pressured by them and the fear of failing 2 weeks in always looms over me. Because if I am being honest, I have never fully followed through with any of it. It’s just human nature to slip back into habits that are familiar, comforting and easy.

What I did instead is create a 30 day habit to get into. Nothing too complicated, but something that could ass to my life rather than remind me of what I am not doing. I have added watercolor painting (which I fell in love with and know I need more of in my life) and a daily walking habit (despite having some pretty severe plantar fasciitis at the time).

While I don’t do either thing continuously through the year, I do love the habit and ritual behind them. They ground me into a routine and perhaps something a little on the healthy side - which I really love. And the practice of making you do 30 continuous days of something is a good way to start any new habit.

While I have no ideas of grandeur that any of these practices will become an actual thing I do every day, I like the reminder that it is something I can practice more of.

It took me a few days to choose something this year…but I have decided that writing is going to be my daily practice. Perhaps here. Perhaps in a journal. Perhaps on social media. But I will do something each day.

Writing helps me process what’s in my brain better than any other thing I do. It allows me to make sense of thoughts that loom over me like dark shadows in the night and helps me work out schedules and routines as I stumble through what’s next in my busy mind. It helps slow me down and dive into clear thinking. And friends - that is something I could use a lot more of these days as I navigate a new chapter this year.

I hope you find something to inspire yourself this year. It could be today or in 3 months. New Years doesn’t have to be the marker. It could be on your birthday or any random wednesday (like me!). This just feels like it fits for me - right here…right now.

In the meantime, you can catch me on one of those walks, or picking up those paintbrushes. It’s been a long time coming and I can’t wait to ground down into something comforting.

Buckle up

If I am being honest, the end-of-the-year scares the crap out of me. Perhaps it’s the “letting go” part that I am not good at. Or maybe it’s the goal-setting, intention-making, resolution-creating that scares the crap outta me. But it all feels so much like I am not living up to an expectation that floats around out there like a half-filled helium balloon - a little too far out of my reach.

This has been a heavy ending to a year that made promises it couldn’t keep - just like so many years before it (I’m looking at you 2020 - 2023). We have sick family, thwarted plans, and lost friends. And it just feels like a lot these days.

As I hung up the phone with my now fiancé a few moments ago (more to come on this news breaker!), he said “It’ll be our turn soon…”

I responded immediately with “maybe when it’s just our turn, that means we don’t have anyone left in our lives to worry about. No parents. No children. No close friends. I’ll take over that any day.”

I have seen my share of down days. But this isn’t that. It’s a gentle reminder that love digs deep and letting go isn’t always something we aim for. Maybe I have spent all my years trying to let go of something that was so much a part of my being, I didn’t see it. Like aborting a part of my soul that I never recognized.

Maybe my weight is just a part of me I’ve tried to deny for too long. Diets would never work and resolutions to lose weight were being thwarted because I just never saw it for what it was…a part of me. Even when I tried to make gentle resolutions or set intentions - like BE MORE MINDFUL - it always seemed like I was telling myself I didn’t measure up as I was.

Maybe instead of aggressive resolutions and strong finishes, we focus on being gentle with ourselves, focus on what’s important, love where we are and what we have right now, and take precious care of us. Let’s reflect on what we did do in 2023 and what lessons we learned and float gently into the new year - like a feather and not a bomb.

I am not here for the STRONG FINISHES or hard and set goals for 2023. I have spent the better part of my life trying to accomplish things that never get done. And frankly, I am exhausted from trying to keep up. I am here for soft, gentle, and loving. Because I am just now realizing I respond to gentle encouragement much better than commands anyhow.

So this year, my intention, my hope, my mission is this: let’s see where this ride takes us, shall we?

Just don’t forget to buckle up!

The Plug for Family photos

The sweetest family that has trusted me for years to do their photos.

I was photographing this family over the past weekend for their annual Christmas Cards. I am always so grateful when I get to re-shoot a family year after year, watching them grow and change. It’s such a treat.

Rita, the mother (and owner of Rita’s Roots) turned to me at one point and said “It’s so important for us to do this every year…”

The comment stopped me dead in my tracks. OF COURSE IT IS! How did I miss this?

You see, I have lost sight of this very sentiment. I didn’t want to overwhelm people with my “sales talk” at the holidays or pressure anyone into doing something they didn’t want. I have spent years cultivating a business based on referrals and character, not gimmicks and sales. I didn’t want to put the sales calls out there. I was caught up in the parts that reflected me for too long instead of what this meant for my clients.

As a marketing professional, this is embarrassing.

You see, these sessions were never about me. They are about you…customers and clients. They are about your family. Your product. Your life. The only part of me I need to bring is my heart…and maybe my camera. The rest is about you. It’s my JOB to show up and reflect you.

So I will continue to make sure you know I am here…snapping these photos and ready for anything. I love what I do. And chances are I am going to love you and your people, too.

So, I will tell you now - TAKE THE PICTURES. Schedule the appointment. You are fine as you are. Just bring yourselves and I will take care of the rest.

You gotta have faith

The sweetest little church in Charleston, SC. Incidentally, my parents are tucked in for eternity right here.

If I am being honest, I struggle with faith. I have been an anxious person my whole life, waiting for the worst to happen. I have struggled with knowing I will be okay, despite all the signs that point DIRECTLY to my okayness.

Trust and faith go hand in hand. You have to be sure of something. So sure of it that you don’t even need to see it. Convicted. Assured. You don’t even need evidence or hard numbers. Just a willingness to believe it’s so.

As I age, those hard facts seem a little more visible and I have lost my sense of control I want over the outcome of every detail. I learned to listen to my “gut” and just trust myself - the person who lead me to some of the best and worst decisions I have made in my life…maybe the history of time. And despite some events in my recent years shaking me to my actual core and challenging every belief I have, I still manage to find a little trust in myself not to mess everything up.

What has helped me find this calmness and trust in the past 10 years is a combination of stillness, writing, and routine. Whenever things feel off, I resort back to these small rituals that feel good to me. Those simple things that keep me simultaneously grounded and in touch with myself as well as in touch with the universe.

Now, moving forward, things feel different. As it turns out, I do have FAITH. Faith in what’s to come and what has been. Faith in myself and those around me. Faith in my mistakes and mishaps as well as my triumphs. Faith that the greater good is really going to happen. I am leaning into trusting my faith in all things to get me through.

So for now, I will embrace this faith - this blind trust in the universe and all it has to offer me. Because honestly, for the most part, faith in myself hasn’t really failed me yet.

The lies we tell.

From a recent shoot with Bros. Gerard Baking Co.

My 21 year old son is struggling a little these days. He was a graduate of the class of 2020. Yeah. That one. The one where the global epidemic crushed our society and everything changed for everyone.

If I am being honest, I think it is more complex than JUST that. It’s hard to be young and pick a track you want to follow. It’s a lot of pressure to put on an 18 year old to just pick something and follow it.

Back when I was growing up, it seemed there weren’t many options. College felt mandatory. There were less choices for us at that time. So the options felt a little more clear cut.

But we live in strange times. Opportunity seems endless. College, Junior College, Trade schools. And a select few are making money posting their lives online (OR FEET?!?! don’t get me started on this…) Or ridiculous videos. Or dances. The rules have changed. And to a 21 year old, I think it’s confusing. A few people are making easy money. And it’s VERY visible.

We have been lying to these kids…to ourselves. We tell each other things are better than they appear. And we tell each other that all it takes to make it is passion.

It got me to thinking about the phrase “Do something you love and you’ll never work a day in your life.” This is absolutely false. I can tell you from my own experience. When I was young, I dreamed of being a photographer. I yearned for it as much as I yearn for water and air. But I never thought I could actually succeed at it. As it turns out, it became a part of my very fulfilling career. But to tell you I don’t work a day in my life is a bald face lie.

I am filled with dread before almost every shoot. What if I fail? What if something goes wrong? How will I make it through 10 hours on my feet? I can’t do this…I suck…

The list is long.

But that doesn’t mean I don’t love what I do. I LOVE it. I am passionate and proud of how much I have accomplished. I am grateful to every client that gives me a chance and every opportunity that pushes me out of my box. But to tell you it doesn’t feel like work is a lie. And an unfair one we are teaching this generation where everything appears better than it is in real life.

I still am guiding my son to follow his passion. But I am reminding him that every job - whether you love it or not - is really hard. And sometimes you have to push through the hard to get to the good parts.

So believe me when I say that I work. I work hard, long, weird hours. I endure things that were never part of this dream (financial, physical, emotional pain…you name it). But through all of this, I am certain that this life - hard or not - is the one I am supposed to be living right now.

The Wild Corners of my little Life

For the past month, I have been sequestered to my bed by the pull of a new strain of COVID. It was - in a word - BRUTAL. And it went of for weeks. Weeks of me rolling around uncomfortably in the bed, waiting for things to change. I am always waiting for things to change.

While I waited for this long and frustrating virus to move along, I wasted hours in bed scrolling the internet looking for an escape from what I felt was an actual prison of my life. I stumbled across people living these fascinatingly extreme lives - women living in camper vans alone on the road or in off-the-grid cabins at the far reaching corners of the globe. Everything looked glamorous from my sick bed as I dreamed myself 1000 times around the world each day.

I have been looking to escape this life of mine for a while. I have been waiting for change to come. I have spent countless hours turning over and over in my head how I can get away. From what, I am unsure. But cross country skiing in the arctic circle certainly looked fun from my bed…the freedom, the wildness, the untamed life. As I laid in my sick bed, I felt like I was dying daily…aging at warp speed. I craved adventure, and most significantly, I craved freedom.

Thankfully, things turned a corner a week or so ago and I began to feel much better… life became more normal. I wasn’t as distracted with escape. Freedom came in the form of health and wellness, so taking care of myself felt like a release and has become an ever increasing priority for me. Routine and regimen seemed freeing.

What has stuck with me as I healed, though, is how much I wanted to live a greater existence than I have been. I want to live larger…feel bigger…than what I have been allowing myself to experience. I want to challenge myself to doing things I feel I can’t do. I want to see things I have never seen. I want to be push through boundaries I have created for myself. In a word, I want to improve me.

I have been putting my life on hold for a long time now. Over 25 years of taking other people’s needs and desires into consideration…maybe even longer than that. So it’s time to find the joy. It’s time to force the change I want. The world doesn’t hand that to you. You have to go get it. You have to demand it.

Perhaps I can find it here, right where I am. Maybe I don’t need to live in the remote reaches of Norway or a cabin in the woods in Canada. Maybe the joy and freedom I seek is right here, in the decisions I make and the choices I pursue.

Maybe it’s just time to change my perspective a little while appreciating the wildness that is right in front of me - like beach sunsets with my best people.

Fill me up

The clarity I get from being by water is unmatched. Moving water. Stormy water. Calm water. It all comforts me.

I have needed to be close to the water lately. But somehow I am denying myself this simple pleasure. The simple joy of doing something that fills my soul up is exactly what I am depriving it of. But why? Why do we hide from pleasure and hide from joy? Why do I dodge something that fills my soul?

Of course, for me parts of this are rooted in the fear of over indulgence…or at least appearing to be over indulging (pretty hard to avoid as a chubby middle aged lady). Hustle culture has gotten so real and if I can be real for a minute - I hate it. What if I want to feel good for a minute? A month? A millenium? But what message will that send to the universe? And (horrors), what will everyone think of me if I do something (or too much) for myself?

Isn’t it time we put down the need to prove ourselves to anyone but our self? Shouldn’t SELF come first? I am all about the hard work…but it’s been at the cost of my own sanity. I am fearful I have forgotten the importance of where I begin. I have become a prisoner to proving myself to others.

In this next year of my life, I am choosing to find joy. Fill my own cup. Wait for no person and put nothing before me. Recovering from a bad illness this month (I’m looking at you COVID) and battling a life long one is only making it more obvious every day and every moment that I need to choose me first.

So if you need me, look for me here - by the water. Or in the sunshine. Or even under a lovely canopy of trees. And if I am smiling alone, know that I have once again found space for me.

21

Dear Graham.

Here we are. Another milestone. Another destination.

You are here. At twenty-one. It’s a crossroads. You are what the world considers to be an adult. Grown in body. Old enough to buy yourself a cocktail at will. What a funny age marker we have made for the world to hand over the task of adulting to people.

It’s weird to me because a part of me still sees you as this…this growing little boy, excited at just how much he grew over the summer, proud of his ability to read a Berenstein Bears book, and thrilled over his own sheer bravery at learning how to jump off a diving board and ride a bike. Except now, your accomplishments aren’t as easy to see as when you were 3, 5 or 15. These milestones are more subtle. They feel more spiritual than physical, more vague than tangible.

But I see it every day - these changes are still happening in you. Although now, it’s on a different level. One that most people can’t see. You are growing more now than ever before. Only those that truly see you will know these changes.

I hope you continue to walk this path. It’s harder than the one you have been on. You are forging your own way through it all now in territory I am only vaguely familiar with. You see, this is YOUR path. Your direction. You are in the driver’s seat now. And you have been for a while. All I can do from here is guide you in the way I know…but you see, I am not the expert of you. YOU are the expert of you!

Be patient with yourself. The road isn’t always clear. Be kind to you. Treat yourself like this little boy in the photo. How would you guide him? Hold him? How would you carry him so he is safe? How would you tackle the parts you don’t know anything about? Treat him like those who love you treat him. Tenderly. Kindly. Patiently.

I don’t have a literal gift for you today. Nothing to unwrap. Nothing to throw away in a few years after it’s broken, worn or outdated. But I have an offering for you. Today, I offer you the keys to your life. You are free to be you.

Just remember this…I will ALWAYS be here. I will always have something for you. I offer you a port in a storm, a soft place to land, and forever a warm meal when you need it.

And, without question, I offer you all my love.

Love forever.

Mom.

Where did you go?

I see you in these tree branches.

I hear you in the lowcountry breezes, dancing around in the spanish moss.

I wait for you underneath the stars, in the stillness of the night, wondering when it is you’ll tell me who to be once again.

The Good Parts

Photos tell a sweet little story… a memory plucked out of a moment in the line of forgotten memories. Some of those moments tend to slip away and that’s okay. Not all memories are made to savor. But I really like that part. I like to remember the whole story. I think it’s a big reason of why I do what I do.

There is a back story to every photo I take. The hard work in the back yard - literal blood, sweat, and tears - that allow you to enjoy a summer morning on the porch. Or the haul to the beach with so much gear you’d swear your arms will fall off as you sweat out any remnant of remaining water in your body (Hello, Charleston summers). Or even a solitary moment by the stereo belting out a childhood favorite after a long, twisty, carsick ride just to get to that little vacation spot. There is something to each photo above that makes me remember the bigger picture. The good and the bad.

Often we post these sweet images…the results of the life we are living. From the outside looking in it all looks pretty perfect. And maybe that’s what the point is. Remembering these moments.

I don’t think when I look back at the end of my days that I’ll think much about the blood, sweat, and tears it took for me to get to those moments above. I think I’ll remember the parts that counted. Call me an optimist or a glass half full kinda gal…or even a goldfish. It’s all true. But I think I want to remember the good parts anyhow. It’s why we do the hard stuff in the first place.

Just remember, those good parts are just the result of the invisible work behind the photo.