The Glamour Shot?

Anyone who knows me, knows that I love classic films. Old Hollywood glamour, film noir, screwball comedies, epics, musicals, dramas, crime; I love it all. I come by this naturally, my dad was an avid movie goer and watcher. He even had a log he kept as a young man that detailed what movie he saw, where he saw it, and what shorts were played before the main feature. I love reading through that log.  It makes me smile.

At the beginning of this project, Lisa and I made a list of ideas we had for our self-portraits. One idea was to make a "pretty" or "glamour" type shot. When I think glamour, my mind goes straight to the high contrast, dramatic Hollywood publicity photos from the 1930s and 40s. They often evoked a dream-like quality, an impossible standard for us mere mortals to aspire to. These were stars after all, they don't look like just anyone you'd see on the street.

Hence this photo, it may not look exactly like me. But inside this average suburban mom shell, is the heart of a dramatic, exotic, movie star. Gaze into these eyes and see far off lands, crazy adventures, or a melodramatic romance that will bring tears to even the most hardened cynic.

The power of movies, my friends. And the power of a good edit. I think glamorous me is rather lovely.

Background Noise

 

I used to believe that if I brought my specialness or talents forward, I would be met with judgement. Or even worse, indifference. 

Hidden in the background, I could get by.  I could survive. Stay small, stay safe. I did this for a long time, not realizing that I was beginning to fade away. Blending in was doing me no favors. The more I felt myself disappearing; the more I searched outside of myself for validation. Becoming dependent on others to boost me up. This only drained even more of my independence and self-fulfillment. 

I see this photo as a perfect interpretation of that. This huge stone is front and center, my figure is blurry and mostly unidentifiable. 

But then I started viewing it through different eyes. Yes, I'm out of focus. I'm not necessarily the main subject of this composition. But your eye is drawn to that somewhat mysterious figure, isn't it? I may be blurred, but I'm there. 

I'm here. 

There is still a part of me that refuses to become invisible, and that is the part I must not ignore. 

I am ready to strip away my old ideas, and step into my beauty. Claim my gifts and share them, without a guarantee of acceptance from others. Claim the truth that I am worthy and that I matter. 

It may feel a bit scary at times to be everything I am meant to be. But I'm done with being small and safe. I'm done with fear and denial. 

I am here and I will not fade away. 

Not Mine

I

I have written about having migraines on this blog before. How I get them and try to slog on through them as best I can. Sometimes that means going through the motions of my day, attempting to interact with family and friends. Sometimes it means laying on the couch with the tv on. A lot of times, it means heading straight to bed with a cover over my eyes. Some days, I can stop them with an Imitrex. Say what you will about modern medicine and pharmaceuticals, these things have given me a chance to get back a part of my life that was taken away by migraines.

I hate migraines.
I hate the pain they cause.
The disruption.
The shame.
The feeling that I am a burden.
That I am "less than" because I suffer from chronic headaches.
That if only I could find the cause, I could relieve myself of these nasty soul crushers.

Over the years, I have learned what triggers a migraine for me. But I cannot always control the weather, or my hormones, or any outside stressors. Migraines are a part of my life. That is how it is, that is what I have accepted.

But what I don't accept anymore is that they define me. That they lessen me. That they take away my spirit and my passions.

I used to call them "my migraines". Now I reject that phrase.
These are not mine. They never have been, never will be.
Migraines are pain, and worry, and isolation.

Migraines are something that happens to me, they are not me.

I am strength, and freedom, and life.
I will always be that.
Before, during, and after a migraine.

Not mine, not ever.