A few important lessons I've learned from my parents.
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Just a few of my favorite things.
Let's talk about what the power of loving yourself can do. It's cool. I'm working on it too.
A year after settling in VA I'm still exploring what home means.
Let's talk about balance or really the lack of it.
Looking back at a year ago today with mixed emotions but a joyful heart.
I'm drinking out of a coffee mug that used to be mine but I'm not in my kitchen. A cooler with our last name on it is sitting out in the hall. One of my favorite floral blouses is in the laundry basket. It's like that moment that you first wake from a vivid dream and can't tell where you are. But you know something isn't quite right. It's like the sinking feeling of dejavu.
Before Zach and I left with our daughter to travel the US for a year, we sold our house in a hurry. To say it was chaotic was an understatement. Zach would have gladly set our belongings ablaze in the front lawn to save the hassle of dealing with them. But we opted for peddling them on our friends and family any chance we got. Our former belongings are scattered across East Tennessee and on up to Virginia. I don't miss them. Each time we gave away another thing I thought it would be so hard. Once gone however, it was like it was never there. They were just things after all.
Now as I sit at our friends house, having just crossed the US in a rush to tow their truck home, those things are reminders. Reminders of the home we renovated. The home that we brought our daughter back from the hospital to. The house that we won't be returning to.
Coming back made it just feel like a long vacation. That we should walk through our front door and find our house just as we left it. That we'll sigh and clean and cook and put our daughter to sleep in her crib and crawl into our bed to whisper to each other about the adventures we've had.
It's a strange feeling to yearn for a place that is so close and yet no longer what it was. Not for us. I guess that is the duality of what we are doing. That I both crave more travel and miss a place. That I feel both lost and more on a path than I have in a long time. That I both have a home and am homeless. That I am both homesick and already home.
It's strange to see something you've never seen before. Most of us have been around long enough that we have experienced a lot of this planet. Sure, there are many places I have never been before. Something I'm slowly but surely rectifying. But it is rare for me to think, "Huh, I've NEVER seen this."
About a week ago I experienced my first full blown sandstorm. We're talking zero visibility, lightening, thunder, and high winds. It was awe inspiring and beautiful and terrible all at once.
It safe to say that I love moody scenery. I love the drama and the unusual nature of it. I love fog. How it envelopes you. Consumes you. This had the same mystery to it but was harsher. The sand danced and shifted until you were unsure if it would come in blankets or waves. Or would it be completely gone in half a mile. There was also just a sheer force to it. While fog creeps, sand dares you to come out and face it.
I was itching to have a model with me. Some woman in a long flowing dress. Some brave soul to go out and be daring and play. However, we were just rolling through. It's on my shot list though and I feel privileged to be able to mark something off my list that I hadn't ever seen or experienced before.
I am not a great lover of heights. I don't mind them but I don't go out of my way to find them. Just like snakes. So when Zach's cousin said she wanted to take us rock climbing I was a little skeptical. And by skeptical I mean nauseous. (For more on our visit to Los Alamos check out here!)
I am a great believer in facing you fears. I don't like for fear to have control over me. Period. I don't like for it to dictate what I do or don't do. Honestly, I was a feeling a little ashamed at how nervous I was about doing this. I've been sky diving! I've jumped off bridges! Why would climbing a rock freak me out? When I got down deep to it is was because after having a baby I feel like I have lost part of my athletic self--my daredevil self. I was worried I physically would embarrass myself. I was worried that I was being a bad mother by taking a risk. Worry is just fear whispering to you.
Lucky for me Zach's cousin Christie is a badass. She's a mother of five, survivor, and rock climbing instructor. If she could do it, I had to at least try it. And I am so glad I did.
The truth is that by the end of the day Zach and I both had fallen a little in love with rock climbing. For him, I believe it was figuring out the puzzle of where to go next, keeping your mind focused, and being outside. For me it was facing that fear each moment, being in such beauty, and trusting yourself to make it happen.
In my experience it always pays off to face your fears. Whether that is fear of change, fear of loss, fear of heights, snakes, spiders, infestations, whales, or the fear of being alone. We all have one that makes a nest inside our heart and minds. Take that fear out, set it on fire, and go live.
Being a Mom is hard. People say that to you when you become pregnant. You believe it but you don't fully understand. Women will talk about the pains of childbirth, the early sleepless nights, the terrible twos, teething, sickness, fatigue. They will share their stories. Which we all need. We need these stores. We NEED to talk about all of this. We rarely talk about ourselves though. We rarely discuss the loneliness, the guilt, the boredom, or even the yearning for a previous life.
I wasn't in love with my daughter. Not at first. Everyone tells you that when a baby is born it will change your life. That you can never imagine loving something more. I cried big hot tears when they first put her on my chest. Tears of relief and exhaustion. I knew that she was mine. That I wanted to protect her, care for her, and do what was best for her. But I also didn't know her. Our love affair was a slow one. Getting to know each other. Her revealing her brilliant shining personality one small moment at a time. And then one day there it was. That unimaginable love. The kind that brings tears back when I think of anything happening to her. I had a lot of guilt at first about not being bonded with her. People asked if I just couldn't get enough of her. If I just wanted her with me all the time. Nope. I needed space. I needed to be me without being a Mom.
These days its hard to find space in a small camper with a one year old. She sleeps in the same room as us. She cries, she snores, she coos--she wakes up really damn early. As a Mom, Photographer, Navigator, Wife, and Researcher I'm still trying to find the balance in myself. And we need to talk about that. There are days I just want to be one thing. I just want to be a photographer that day. Or I just want to be a tourist. Or I just want to be a lover. It is easy to get overwhelmed by all the roles and demands. To pine for a simpler time instead of being present in this whirlwind. Right now there are no babysitters. All of my roles are full on all the time and I would be lying if I said it wasn't exhausting.
But its also beautiful. There is a lot of living in my life right now. I get to experience a beautiful world that I shamefully haven't seen before. I get to roam streets and woods and beaches and swamps. I wash our daughter under the full moon. I sing her to sleep amidst the background of crickets, tree frogs, and cicadas. I read. I photograph what is before me. I talk about what is whispering to my soul. I tell myself the truths I need to know. It's okay to be overwhelmed. Live here now. You are enough.