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 n...
These are the meandering thoughts of a smart and competent woman.