I can't believe 2011 is upon us. So amazing to think how quickly this past year has gone. How much I have changed, not just in this past year, but from years ago. My style of writing, my style of photography, the things I wrote about in journal entries. Some of it is embarrassing, some of it makes me proud, and yet other things (and people) I'd much rather forget. What a journey my life has been so far. It excites me to feel that the person I am now, this is who I'm supposed to be. I'm where I'm meant to be, I'm with who I'm meant to be, and everything up until this point has just been learning experiences for me. Molding me into the woman that I am now, to be with the man I am with. I will never stop seeking to improve myself, however. Improvements in my character, my habits, my creativity, and my physical appearance will always drive me to strive for something more.
I'm not sure what sent me on this little (somewhat melancholy) trip down memory lane. Maybe it was looking through my gallery and favorites on DA, looking through the galleries of some of my friends and their interests and favorites. Seeing how different things are now from how they were all those years ago, but how a lot of my interests remain the same. I'm almost scared to look through some of my previous journal entries. O_o But I guess my past has a lot to do with who I am today, so I shouldn't be too embarrassed by it.
For many of the years I've been alive I've had this weight, this sadness. Never prevalent in my life, never something anyone would ever classify as being a quality of mine. It doesn't permeate the fabric of who I am, at least not to an extent that I was ever classified as a "sad child" or an "unhappy" person. At most, it's caused people to call me, upon occasion, "an old soul." I'm not even sure that "sadness" is the right word. I had a mostly happy childhood. I vaguely remember the years that my dad was an alcoholic and a drug addict. I never look back in those childhood memories and recall him being a bad father, however. I just remember seeing some of the things he did, or the affect these substances had on him. I also, most clearly, remember the change in him when he came to church with my mom and I, and accepted Christ as his Savior. When I was 4 years old, I had something happen in my life, that no child should ever have to suffer, and I know it will cause me to be protective of my own children someday. I will be extremely careful about who they are left with, even family members, because I don't ever want a child of mine to deal with what I dealt with at that age. But, in the grand scheme of things, I've had a VERY good, VERY blessed life. So what is this weight I've had for years? Is it the weight of knowledge? The weight of understanding? Even at a young age, even in all my innocence, there was a part of me that saw through everything and knew the world wasn't the place that so many portrayed it to be. As I grew older, that weight was one of loneliness. Reading my writings, listening to my songs I've written, reading journal entries... it makes me realize how much of my life has been spent yearning for someone to love.
I can now say, with the utmost joy, that so much of the weight I've carried throughout my life has been lifted. I have now found someone to love. I've found my True. My Eternal. Now the only weight I bear are those of the societal norm. The burden of a job less-than-perfect, the burdens of daily trials and car troubles, the occasional disagreement with a parent or friend, the scourge of the weather, the irritation of sickness, and all the other things that we all deal with in life, on an almost daily basis. I embrace these now. I accept these as small payment for a much larger joy. And they make the many great blessings in my life so much sweeter.
I say it every day, if not verbally, in my heart of hearts.... I am a very blessed woman.
I have found myself, especially recently, aching for the creativity that I have often placed on hold. The ideas that burn behind my eyes and that manifest themselves in my dreams at night. I often struggle with self-loathing, even still. This feeling that I will never be perfect, and if I cannot be perfect, why even be? It's a feeling that doesn't surface often, but when it does, it rears its ugly head with a vengeance. I fear being found to be mediocre. Not just by my friends and family, but by my love. I fear not being beautiful enough, creative enough, interesting enough... and yet I am completely fearless in his arms. A paradox? Perhaps. I understand it no more than you, I merely express it. I see all the beautiful people (*hears Marilyn Manson in her head*), all the beautiful photography, and the beautiful photography of the beautiful people and it overwhelms this perfectionist with an imperfect view of my own self. I've often discovered that the best way for me to fight these things is to immerse myself in creativity. Write. Take pictures. Draw or paint. Build something. So perhaps that's what I need to do. That, in itself, can be frustrating as well. So often I see photo shoots in my mind's eye that are amazing. Self-portraits that would be stunning. Conceptual shots that would mystify. But often it is pulling off these ideas that I seem to have issue with. Nothing ever turns out like I see it. I either don't possess the means, the locations, the editing software or (as my insecurities like to scream at me) the looks to pull these off. I have a book idea that has been festering in my mind for years, but I'm almost intimidated by the concept. Not sure where my soul intends to go with it or how it will all come together. I read books so often, by so many great novelists and it seems a daunting task to me, one I'm not qualified or worthy to undertake. But I haven't completely trashed the idea yet.
I always seem to dig deep and find a bit of redheaded spunk and determination to pull me through, eventually.
I almost feel as though I shouldn't be called "EverBroken" anymore. I used to think that was my destiny. To remain ever and always broken. A wounded soul. But I am no longer broken. Not in the least. I am healed, gloriously, and wondrously healed. My heart is more full of love than it's ever been, more vibrant and alive than it was the day I entered this world.
So be happy for me (and I know all of my lovely DA friends will be), and wish me luck in my future creative endeavors which I hope to be able to share with you all.
I will never bare my body to the eye of a camera, never share such intimacy with the world, but I will (and do) bare my soul through photographs, writing, and my art. In that lies my imperfections, perfectly.