The Disease to Please

Some things are character staples. Some things define a person and some things are how you identify yourself with. I am a people pleaser. I found this out a few years back and ever since it's been this interesting dance of knowing something about yourself is flawed but also simultaneously knowing it's so deep-rooted in your anatomy that you're somehow meant to swallow it. I think that's why I never really liked therapy or self help books. There's so much information out there to tell you all the messed up complex things about you but then when you go looking for solutions to you - the problem, there really aren't any chapters on that. 

I always wanted to be the teacher's pet growing up. When I made friends, I wanted their parents to love me. I felt this warm sensation whenever someone would tell me how good I was at something or how they couldn't have done something without me. Feeling needed was my lifeline. It's so ironic because I remember grappling with these feelings on here almost fifteen years ago. I just have always had this need to be liked or remembered or wanted. I've also time and time again found that no matter how much I give or sacrifice or do, the object of my people pleasing never really cared if I did it for them or not. 

I like to joke that I found a job where my people pleasing makes sense. Photography and photographing people is a very special relationship where the person who is in front of your camera needs you to give them something. I love the power of controlling how someone looks and feels about themselves. It's honestly been the only form of control I've ever truly had. 

Shay started working with me two years ago suddenly. It was a situation that came abruptly but ultimately I'd always dreamt of sharing my little world with him. Something I didn't take into account was how he had never met the person I was at work. I'm a character for whoever I'm working with and I do whatever I need to make the person in front of my lens happy. I also now was in a position of training someone to work with me. 

Flash forward to today and my husband, the person who I've always admired for being just genuinely himself was trying to be me. I was telling him how to be more like me. Me, this unidentifiable yes man who contorts and pleases anyone and anything with no regard to herself; this shell, this pathetic sad "business owner". I honestly don't even know how to write about what's going on right now. I don't even know how to express how I was once again trying to be a martyr and save everyone from everything and in tern was willing to sacrifice my husband for it. 

I'm frustrated. I'm frustrated with myself, with my stupid job, with my stupid clients and needs and wants that I've promised to people without even considering my own self. I'm frustrated with him for listening to me. I'm frustrated with people taking advantage. I'm frustrated. 

Today's the last wedding of June. June was chaotic and selfish and painful and a change needs to be made. This is a open ended letter to myself to remind myself of this. To remind myself that fifteen year old me was crying wolf and no one was coming to save her. I am thirty-one years old. I am not a martyr. No one will die and think about how much "help" I was to them. I am a grown up who acts like a child. 

I'm diseased. 

Eleven Years

Yesterday was our eleven year anniversary of meeting. I found my way back to here as I often do and thought it was so beautiful reading over the innocent ramblings of a woman I used to know. While you're creating moments, you never truly see yourself until the moment becomes a memory and you look back at the life you've lived. So strange how that works. 

I found myself longing to know the version of myself I am today and wanted to come back to write about her. She's less poetic. She's a little more tough. She doesn't daydream as much or reminisce on her little moments. I think when I was younger I had such a difficult time liking myself which is so ironic because I love the version of me I once was. I look back at her so fondly and love the way she loved and fought and adventured and explored. She'd be amazed by the today's person. The same girl that fell in love with a camera and was afraid of the day ending because then she'd have to go to sleep and would possibly miss out on more moments is still the frenzied adult I am today. I wonder if coming back here and writing again can connect me better with my softness. Humans are not soft. We can't be. I think it's so beautiful how soft I was able to be for so long. 

Soft curves. 

Villain

 You can be the villain in their story and that's okay. 

Little Swimmers

I read somewhere once that most people believe years almost go in an order where some are tough and then the next one is easier, an ebb and a flow that allows people to catch their breath. I always think about people who live the same life every year. Who don't progress or more forward or backward and can look at their entire calendar and know exactly how it's going to play out. I lived in fear of becoming that person. I didn't know what caused it; the stagnant cycle of remaining the same. I was so afraid of turning thirty before this year came and now that it's here I've never felt more myself. This year feels big. A lot of things that have been festering in my life for thirty some years are really working themselves out and it feels like our deck of cards is starting to lay out. I almost don't want to acknowledge it because the pessimist in me fears it'll be snatched away. This year started with us working on my immigration situation. Come February and we're in the system, we're moving forward, it feels surreal. 

I think having a family has always scared me. Being a mother is an absolute fear of mine. I think it is truly my greatest fear. Two years ago we started trying to have a baby. I say that very loosely, it was more of a - if it happens, it happens - type of deal. Last year when Shay stopped working at his guitar company we started looking at the idea as more of a realistic possibility. When things weren't happening naturally we took a look at some of our tests and found some infertility issues. Being the absolute pessimist in the relationship, I somewhat settled into not hoping or thinking and more so being sad and mourning what could be. Shay shifted gears, he researched and worked on everything he could do to help naturally get us to a starting point. Yesterday we tested and for the first time, there were swimmers. We went from no chance to suddenly a chance. I don't know what this means moving forward but it does mean that there is a push forward. I haven't really processed any of it and my brain hasn't really caught up with the news. I'm scared, terrified but also open. This morning I felt compelled to write about it. I knew it was a big moment. A big stepping stone. So here I am, writing, because if one day one of those swimmers helps become a little thing I want it to know his or her father was overjoyed last night. He told me he felt like "he had a purpose." My husband doesn't say things to say them, he doesn't mince words or just fluff up kind poetry. His honesty is the most beautiful light in him and last night he was smiling ear to ear because he wants this. And so the decision and worry and fears don't matter because if we get the chance to have a baby, it will be loved and cherished and cared for by the same man who loves and cherishes and cares for me and we'd be the luckiest little energies. 

Almost Thirty

Came across this blog today and cried over how beautiful it is to have somewhere I wrote for so many years. I'm turning thirty on Monday and wanted to give myself the challenge of coming back on here to write and remember. Today I read over a blog post I wrote in 2015, 10 years ago where I talked about how impactful meeting Shay felt and how it felt like he was going to change my life forever. Ten years later and we're married and have a life together. That feels absurd and insane and beautiful. I also come here often to think about Sparcky and remember him. Losing him is something that I mourn every day. I cried today to think that I'm beginning my first new decade without him in my life. It's funny how when you're young the idea of getting past twenty-five seems absurd. Turning thirty feels like my life is only just starting and I can't believe there's so much of it still to live. I never imagined living a life without him or without my family or with Shay or anything at all. I think it could be good to write here and remember this new time. Just a check in for now, but I'll be back. 

A Check In

It's been a long time. I think the reason I'm writing here mostly is because I hate to leave off where I did. The last few years have been a whirlwind for most people, including myself. Yesterday I was running and every once in a while things hit me. I miss Sparcky within my bones and my marrow. I realized yesterday that he is my idea of family and my memory of love. It's the holiday season and this year is just very much a season waiting to pass. It's been over a year now since he passed and although most days I hate thinking about how my memories are becoming more faded - I know in my heart that he was the most real thing I'd ever known. 

I came back here to look for photos of him. I started writing here in 2013. That's almost ten years ago. It's insane to look back at the posts and also so beautiful seeing how this little space really was the foundation for what my life is now. Seeing the early imprints of blogging and photography and passion. I can't believe I'm a photographer today. I can't believe I'm happy most days. I can't believe I found Shay and have the kind of love from him I dreamt of all my life. We're human, he and I. We are so very raw and burnt and torn and scratched from our lives and our pasts but what he and I have built for each other is something younger me could have only dreamed about. Writing isn't something I typically do when I'm feeling happy. I like to know that and realize that's why I haven't needed to write in such a long time. I just read my last words on him and realized I wanted to update this corner of my memory. He still has his back pain. I still have my depression. We are so much bigger than our pains. We are partners. We have two puppies and a kitten. We have a home. We began traveling this year and working together. I don't know what I want to say but I do just want to imprint it in these pages that he is and always will be my savior. It's the last week of twenty twenty-two. Next year I'm turning twenty-eight. I'm not young anymore. I'm more my own person than I ever have been and I'm growing still, healing still, breaking still. 

I'm actually looking forward to a new year. I'm still awkward. I'm still myself. I'm just becoming her more and more every day.