Canon 60D – 60mm – ISO 400 – f/5.6 – 1/80 – WB: Shady – HDR
Since I was a little girl, I’ve loved to write. I was the kind of kid who always had a pen pal, who wrote stories and poems and letters to faraway loved ones and found that I could bang out on my little blue typewriter all the things I could not articulate verbally, stringing the words together on paper so that they made sense.
And, when needed, I found a kind of therapy through writing. The words usually came easily.
Even under pressure. Like that one night in college—while composing on my first computer—the system crashed, and I lost an entire essay due the next day. I stayed up all night with a two-liter bottle of Coke and a bag of popcorn and reconstructed everything, feeling a strange kind of adrenaline from the challenge.
But my thoughts are in such a spin these days that the words fail me right now. You know that feeling, where a chain of terrible events goes off and all you can wonder is: is this really happening?
(For anyone just stopping by this blog for the first time, I am referring to two recent medical emergencies in my family: my aunt who suffered a ruptured brain aneurysm 10 days ago, and my uncle who—because of the failings of the medical professionals entrusted with his care—succumbed to his illness six days ago.)
Hard stuff has happened before. But the fact that both of these things have been going on simultaneously has meant a relentless barrage of confusing new information, one complication after another, and a flood of conflicting emotions: worry and fear and sadness and anger and gratitude, all mixed together like some horrible “swamp juice” we once concocted as kids. Just like back then, there is no way to drink that down. It just sits there, a thick lump caught in the throat.
Maybe the words don’t form because I don’t even know what to think anymore.
The thing is, I didn’t start this project or this blog because of some need to express my feelings. My goal was (and is) to challenge myself creatively and improve my photography. It was never intended to be a document-a-year-of-my-life kind of thing. It was meant to be more window than mirror.
But the images I’ve been making lately express my state of mind, the jumbled mess that it is. They are my way of coping and working through it. At the moment, circuits are overloaded.