NOT A MODEL-JUST PART OF THE STORY

I ran across an essay today and I almost fell apart. It highlighted a truth I knew subconsciously, but had trouble admitting to for along time. I am someone who hates being photographed, and after the end of my marriage, I realized I was in very few of the photographs we took; maybe 5 over an 8 year period. Keep in mind we traveled to Alaska, Kenya, Paris, London, Ireland, Jamaica, Venezuela, etc. so at the very least there should have been some photos of me in those places. I had long attributed the lack of photographs of myself to my absolute hatred of being photographed. But then I ran out of excuses, over that period of time I noticed that somehow, my friends and family had photographs of me. They captured me when I wasn't looking or when I was laughing so hard, I just couldn't stop them from taking pics.

Somehow, the people who wanted me to be a part of their lives found a visual way of making room for me, even against my objections. A few weeks ago a new friend asked me to pose for a photograph in Arlington, VA near one of the monuments. He wanted a photo of both me and the monument. I asked him why he would want one with me since it was better just getting a pic of the monument. He said- what kind of question is that? I knew what kind of question that was, it was the kind of question that comes from someone who expects to be left out. I begrudgingly posed for the pic. thankful that someone wants me to be a part of their story.

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I CAN'T PASS JUDGMENT ANYMORE

I know all of my friends are loving the ease and convenience of carrying books around on a Kindle, or whatever the gadget of the day is, but this move to electronic reading is really affecting my ability to judge others, yes, you heard me right-judging others is now difficult. It used to be that I could sit on the train and just by watching book covers, and their respective readers, I would get an idea of what books I might like. Now, everyone has a kindle and I can't really derive reading recommendations without appearing to be a stalker. But worse than that, new friendships are severely affected. I used to be able to walk into someone's house and look at their bookcase and know whether I should run the other way-now, the non-visibility of books makes identifying incompatibility so much more difficult. For example, if someone were to walk into my house, this is what they might see: You would be correct in making quite a few assumptions about me based on this ...

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I remember being a young adult and cramming into a van with 26 other people: this van was designed to hold only nine. Had I been wealthier, I could have gotten on a nicer and safer bus, but I was not wealthy and had to get home ASAP. I hated my country for things like that and loved America because America had nice buses, no overcrowded bus. I had been on American buses and trains while on vacation and they felt glamorous compared to what I had to get on on a regular basis. Years later, I would move to America. I would depend on public transportation to get to work, school and leisure. I lived at the border between a wealthy area and modest one, lucky enough to have been assigned to the wealthier neighborhood's school system. It turns out, PT in America was not that glamorous. The fleets were nicer, but the routes and expense couldn't get me to where I WANTED to be. They were good enough to get me to where OTHERS wanted me to be. I have since moved around and lived all ov...

THE INVISIBLE COST OF TRAUMA AND WHY IT IS HARD TO SEE

Every day I look out of my back door and stare at two beautiful Pine trees. Those who don't know their histories see two well-formed plants that cast shadows, clean air and house neighborhood critters. I, on the other hand, see missed opportunities. Only after looking at what was lost among those trees could I begin to conceptualize how much good has been removed from the human experience due to trauma. I bought my home in 2006 and can assure you that the two Pine trees were planted and transplanted at the same time; they were nurtured (or not) by me in the same amounts. Both trees grew at the same pace for about nine years. Over a year ago there was a huge snow storm that toppled the Pine tree on the left. I tied it back up hoping it wouldn't die. Sure enough, the Pine tree was resilient and survived. In fact, if you were to look at it today you would not know that it once fell over and looks like a model Pine tree. People often see survivors of trauma after they have ...

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