For years I didn't have a camera, and would buy disposable ones for different events to use. Well, and then forget that I had them. So two weeks ago, I packed up 5 or so cameras and send them off to the Duane Reade, and just received the photos back.
I of course had no idea what were on these cameras. And to be honest, was excited and nervous to see what could possibly have been so important to take a picture of and then promptly forget.
The photos are like a collage of extreme weight gain and loss and bad haircuts. There are photos of my 30th birthday, or I think it's my 30th birthday, and then photos of my brother's visit to New York when he met all my friends over 5 years ago. Then there are photos from 3 years ago with the really really blonde hair and the giant body, just before meeting the ex, and I was shocked at how large I was and how blonde my hair had been dyed.
In some of them I have my mom and dad, and it's awesome to see mom with a smile on her face, not shying away from the camera. However, all of us go through the up and down of weight loss and gain, and haircuts (why did I ever think that short would look good on me?). I look great in the 30th birthday photos (again, I can't remember if it's actually my 30th or if it was my 29th. Crap, it was like my 27th birthday. No wonder I look so so young.), with my long hair very curly and well maintained, a smaller face, and red lips.
As I am going through this process, I am uncovering things about myself I never knew. I have always thought I would be the woman with the red lips and the ha ha laugh, and the first one to be out there and trying to make things happen. You know, outwardly very very happy. And inwardly just dying. And instead, I am inwardly happy, if not confused for periods of time while I figure out what next steps are, while I contest my obsession with protein powders or refuse once again to go to the gym, and outwardly slightly raw and vulnerable. And wanting to wholeheartedly be thrown into a relationship of "someone loves me" without warning and without anxiety or doubt.
I look in the eyes of that girl/woman in front of the camera and honor her. It is her journey that has gotten me here. She is as strong as she can be-- carrying all that emotional and physical weight around is just exhausting and debilitating. I am so lucky to have found so many perfects in my life that counterbalanced the extreme weight. I am so lucky to have developed a persona that has let me be left alone. The breaking down of this persona is a little like tearing down the Berlin wall-- without David Hasselhoff or Europe singing or Ronald Regan encouraging the job to be done, as if he has some say in it. It's been coming down for years, it's now just for show.
Those photos are very cool reminders of some great past times with great friends. With people who love and support me. And knowing that I don't have to be that scared, that out of control, that fake happy is a welcome reminder of I am up to the life I am creating. I am up to creating a great life.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
1 comment:
A friend took dozens of digital photos when we were on a roadtrip, then we all forgot about them. I didn't see them until about a year after my surgery when he found them on a zip drive. Looking at them felt like an assault. One of them also was a close up of my face just minutes after I was brought to my hospital room after surgery. I cried for about three hours. I still have the photos but it's very painful for me to look at them.
Post a Comment