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The other day I pulled out that tin box from the back of the cupboard. The one full of photos from back before it was the world of digital photography.
It was a peculiar yet beautiful half hour as I pulled the photos out and looked at each of them. I found myself crying seeing people who aren’t with us anymore, laughing at other pictures of long ago. It felt emotional and exhausting as I poured through them.
As I finished up, I thought about that box. Quite honestly (and not in a self-depricating way) many of the photos were really not flattering and were photographically not very good. As I had that thought, I listened to it and made a decision what my next thought would be. Would it be that I sucked as a photographer growing up? Would I let all of those feelings of insecurity that are still tied around my teenage years and the 20’s? Not this time.
It made me think about how grateful I am that I discovered photography when I did. I read so many people’s about page that starts with “I picked up a camera when I was 5 (or 9 or 11) took a picture and my world changed”. That just isn’t my story. There is no right or wrong time to discover photography and it is never to late.
Discovering photography as the shift from film to digital was the perfect timing for me. Taking photos, waiting a week or more until that pouch of photos came back, just didn’t engage me in a way that I wanted to learn how to take better photos.
The accessibility of digital photography is really incredible isn’t it. The way we can take a photo, look at it, and then right away ponder what we could do to take that photo a bit differently…that is what my brain needs to learn. That experiential in the moment learning is really the only way it works for me.
The other big lesson I learned in that rollercoaster of emotions looking through that box of photos is that you find what you are looking for. If I decided to look for the story of how I wasn’t good at photography before now, well, it was there and I could have easily taken that one on. Or that story that has itself safety pinned to my heart that is all about not feeling beautiful or attractive growing up. Well, there were photos in there that I could decide were proof of that story.
Instead I found on that told me a different story. A different sort of proof. One that made me look back and say, girl, you were beautiful. One that has me smiling wide. One that has my sister and I looking peaceful together. That is the one that made it out of the box and is now on my fridge. The one that whenever I’m struggling with those emotions of insecurity or remembering only the pain of teenagehood, that I can look her in the eye and tell her (me at probably around 16 or 17) that she is beautiful, just as she is.
Yes, it was on one image probably hundreds in that box. But it was the one I chose today. The story I am choosing to prioritize over the ones that really don’t serve me and hold me back.
Its one of the ways I’m rewriting my story.
Speaking of that, the brand new Re-Writing the Story class is beginning next Monday! We’re already gathered in the flickr group, introducing ourselves and beginning creative community. I’ve also created an extra pre-class PDF to get us started. There is still some room if you’d like to join in!