The Lucky Ones

Yesterday was a low day. I turned on the news and the world is still falling apart. The president of my country was still an incoherent idiot. I switched to social media and that just wore me thin. It was cold. It was gloomy. It was rainy and I was feeling blah. So I decided to turn it all off and write...I hate this monkey on my back and writing has always been the cathartic shaking that’s needed. 

In the beginning of this year, I decided to throw myself into my photography. I decided to revamp my blog and return it back to what it was before it ‘needed’ a niche. I decided to make my two extremely important creative outlets that previously have always been placed on the back burner, a priority. Before this year took off blazing down the road, there was always a reason why I never focused on these two things. Timing, feeling quite not ‘good enough’ and lack of confidence in what I was producing. My shadow self clings too these emotions like there is no there is no other feeling to hold onto. 

And right now my insecurities are over throwing all my common sense. They are joining forces with apprehension and trying to sink my battleship. This is a battle I’ve always fought...it’s a battle I sometimes don’t win. I despise this war with self but I believe it’s truly part of the process. It’s a necessary double edged sword. It’s an irrational pest that encourages the betterment in my behalf. 

Earlier yesterday, an amazing photographer started following me on my photography IG page called Hope and Wander Photography...in case anyone out there who wants to know. I was blown away by this man’s pictures. Blown the fuck away! They were beautiful. I stared at them for hours then looked at my own page and became depressed and unimpressed. In comparison, I have so far to go. I feel this same uncertainty with so many other photographer’s work. Other writers. Other creatives. I admire in amazement and then proceed to feel incompetent. That incompetence pushing me forward to greatness though. Is this dream of mine all just pipe? Wasted energetic hype? Will this really become a defining moment that describes how I etched out my place and finally found home? 

I got bummed. I’m humbled by the very notion that this guy followed me but it bummed me out nonetheless. We are our own worst critics and I am, for one, admittedly so extremely critical of anything I put out artistically. 

I get that and I try-when this self-deprecating asshole comes around-to talk her off this ridiculous ledge. The ledge I created and masked as safety. 

But, it’s tough. That ledge is tempting and the easiest out. My shadow self luring me back to its bosom, “There, there...child. You belong here...in this unsatisfying, unexposed safe space! You can’t leave me just yet.” 

The thing is I’ve been told I write well. I’ve been told that my photographs are more than just snapshots of the places I’ve been. They tell stories...these outlets both explain life through my eyes and I have been told to pursue both with the best of them....many, many times. But still I wonder, can I measure up? 

I try to dismiss the need for instant gratification: most things in life require time to grow and flourish and catch on. I try not to get wrapped up with recognition. I try not to be disappointed when efforts to move forward move in slow motion or even backwards. Trying being the operative word. I’ll be the first to admit it, it feels phenomenal when someone else sees my value and worth....because most days I don’t see that at all. I’m not a sad story though...I have lots of spunk and muster and might. I just don’t walk around thinking I’m ‘King Shit’...and that’s okay. I’m not keen on narcissism so this works out-it balances out the ego I probably could have. Believe me...had my life afforded privilege...my self-esteem would be through the roof but those entitlements were in past lives and no one lives the same life twice. There’s variations with repetitive lessons but the experience is a whole new ride. 

And I’ve lived many lives, or so I have heard. 

Part of this lesson now involves learning how to become that powerful goddess I once used to be...centuries ago. The pendulum swung to the opposite side. Doubt. Fear. Hesitation. Angst. Ambivalence. The Whirling Dervishesof worriment all relentlessly dancing around in this life cycle. 

The lessons although arduous are beneficial...and I know this. They’ve given me drive, determination and direction. And the goddess that lived way back when wasn’t dealing with a technical world. Sure, she was still surrounded by ‘Who You Know/ Who You Are’ mentality but it wasn’t as saturating. It’s wasn’t as prominent. There was room to move about freely and form individuality. There was a place for both competition and collective support. 

I’m not trying to compete. I want the collective support....and not just from an outside community but in my heart too! I need to be my biggest cheerleader, my largest ally...not my worst enemy. It’s just that...it’s just...that...that mountain is such a treacherous rock to climb. 

It’s jagged and steep and my legs are giving way from underneath. My arms slipping from the sweaty grip of hanging on. 

I’ve been hanging on and continuing to climb my whole life...just a little longer now or is that just a mirage up ahead? Why does this seem so easy for other people? Magical people that have everything. Talent, poise, and victory. Everything they touch turning into lucrative gold...without a sharp point breaking the skin. Sneezing out instant perfection. 

The ‘lucky ones.’ 

I have so far only bled and shed while waiting patiently for ascension. For my lift off...for this insecurity to subside. To have that assurance that what I touched has potential too. 

I tip my hat to the guy who followed me today...he inspires me to strive for more, to continue this journey and get where he is. Did he ever underestimate himself? Has he ever been where I am? Unsure but unwavering? 

I’ve said this before and I will say it again...putting yourself out there in a world full of ‘perfect’ critics is ghastly. There’s vulnerability involved and it’s complicated to be weak when you’ve always had to be strong. It’s terrifying to remove yourself from that comfortably numb feeling you are so used to. 

Yesterday, I could’ve drowned my sorrows in a pint of ice cream but instead I forced my unwillingness to keep charging ahead. I edited more photos. I wrote. I listened to music...I did whatever I could to hush my weary mind. I’m an adult...I don’t need my shadow self’s tit! Not anymore. This safe space hinders...it doesn’t protect. It’s just an excuse or scapegoat for giving up. And why should I give up? I want to be a ‘lucky one’ too...I deserve to be lucky. 

I used to have this strange discontent when it came to the very word, “deserve.” I associated it entitlement and privilege. I assumed it went hand in hand with little effort involved. That’s not the case. Deserving is a state of mind...it’s the essence of past teachings showing you how to handle the future. We all deserve our biggest dreams to come true and for as long as I can I remember, becoming a bonafide artist was my constant ambition. 

When you grow up young and poor, you grow up believing if you want some outlandish uncommon goal, you have to work harder than most to attain it. I didn’t mind doing without...it made me who I am. It taught me the difference between what’s important and what’s not. It showed me how to not be a materialistic, wasteful person. It gave me the responsibility to take care of what I had. I wouldn’t trade my struggle for the world and I’m not even trying to persuade my shadow self to think conversely to the beliefs it has grown accustomed to. She’s a stubborn bitch so even if I tried, she ain’t listening to shit. I have to tackle her down and embrace her into my own bosom of truth and defiance. I have to calm her down while diplomatically letting her know she will submit or else. I’ve lacked confidence long enough. 

I’m worthy of owning part of this kingdom too. I shouldn’t just be pinned as a slave to it. I have to understand giving up equates to weakness. Not vulnerability. I have to understand that my shadow just keeps the light from shining through....and it’s been dark long enough. So dark for so very long. 

I woke up today...turned on some Motown had coffee and continued to write. I cleaned my house, I did the laundry, I made homemade banana bread. I showed my husband my next photo I would be publishing on my IG page. He told me he wanted a print made for our house. He made me smile. 

I looked at my blog stats...saw the link had been hit and folks out in the world read it. Hahahaha...I’m still waiting on Alex Høgh Anderson to read it but regardless...those that did made my day. It was liked on another social feed...a few times. The stagnant feeling reprieved by community support. My blog IG even got two new followers! Hahaha...I have broken double digits now. 14 to be exact! 

My photography IG page...same thing. Like the universe was saying...”Get off your damn pity party, you damn fool. Is this what you needed to see?!” 

Yes! Yes. It is. Not all the time but occasionally. To ensure headway is being made and the effort is all for something instead of nothing. I’m trying to make a go at this...it’s no longer a pastime hobby. It’s something I wholeheartedly want to make happen. In a few years I want to make this a sustainable career move. One that guarantees some security. One that allows me to move back to Europe on my own terms. 

I’m not an ordinary person. I know this about myself. I’ve always been pushed down or tossed aside for it and because of that, my quarks became like trademarks. 

Growing up, I could never afford to be classified as any stereotype. The closest identity I’ve ever come close to is a club kid but that’s only because I love music and dancing. By the time I could afford something that defined me as a: hippy, hipster, punk rocker, brainiac, artist...so on and so forth....I wasn’t into one single thing. I was intrigued by it all. 

I’ve never wanted to be part of a crowd....I’m fine with my independence and individuality. I have my tribe and husband and family and my past goddess who was the epitome of uniqueness. I have communal support from strangers. I have my shadow self. I have my bright future. 

I have these slumps to work through and I hope I’m not the only one? We all have those ‘not good enough’ tendencies, right? 

Keep moving forward. Right? It may not always work out or the timing might be all off but at least keep going. Right? Life will eventually give you what you strive for. 

Thanks for all the support thus far...thanks for the inspiration and although I feel I have a long way to go...I’m enjoying the journey. Honest...I just have to wrangle and strangle ole Negative Nelly sometimes. Let her come visit...feed her (because I’m a Taurus and we always have food), let her have her tantrum...and then tell her to stop being a needy baby. Put the big girl pants on and follow through on this passion. It will be her biggest regret if she doesn’t. 

With that...I leave you this...YOU KNOW THE DRILL...a quote and YES it’s another VIKINGS quote. I’m not obsessed. It’s a good show. I’m stuck in quarantine....there’s so much social media, movies, shows, books (given the library is closed)...things in general you can do. I’m actually proud of how I have filled my time, quite frankly. 

I just resonate with Ivar. I see myself in this person’s strong yet tender character. I fully understood what Be Ruthless truly meant and it didn’t mean be a dick...it meant looking at yourself as a powerful being. Capable of keeping up....and because that very phrase hit me at a time when I really needed to hear those fucking words the most, Be. Fucking. Ruthless! 

Here it is folks-the quote from my long winded explanation. 

Ragnar to Ivar: Me to Self. 

“Shut up and listen, idiot. You have many gifts, and anger is a gift. What is in here [points to his head] is a gift. You do not think like other men. You are unpredictable. That will serve you well. Use your anger intelligently!”