Uncharted waters
Vulnerable. A term that commands such susceptibility from your innermost soul. An appellation that I would not use to describe myself. A sentiment that does not come easy to me; yet an adjective that I often request from my clients during their time with me. Today I give to you myself at my most vulnerable plight, in order to move forward and once again regain my footing.
As some of you may already know, the last 18 months have been unyielding for me … for a lot of us in fact. In that time, in addition to trying to navigate a new way of life for both myself and my family amidst the pandemic, I also lost both of my dads and my mom was faced with some serious health issues. In October of 2020 after losing my stepfather (the man who raised me and was there by my side for my entire life), my family and I had to maneuver terrain that was vastly unfamiliar and suffocatingly lonely for my mom; while traveling back and forth to see my dad who was battling cancer. When we lost my dad on Father’s Day that following year, the footing that I mistakenly perceived as anchored, was washed away with the tide.
To know me, is to know that I am the master and the queen of “stuffing it down.” I will avoid an awkward situation at all costs, and I can bury just about any emotion not pertaining to my children … and I can do it with both the precision and swiftness of a ninja – but this time was different. I was unfocussed, I was working; but with lack of passion and little desire, and I was really freaking sad all of the time. It was at some point during those unremitting months after my dad’s death that I realized I needed to stop. I needed to give myself grace to heal, a space of my own to reflect, and I needed to attempt to make sense of this new reality that I was faced with. In simpler terms … I became a bit of an introvert. I crawled deep down inside my comfortable little hidey-hole and made myself all too comfortable. Now listen, I am a bit of an extroverted introvert anyway, so this was not a stretch to get me here. Take a national pandemic, sprinkle in a lockdown, add a pinch of solitude and a dash of death – and voila’ – you have Jen the isolate. Don’t get me wrong, I was working and yes – I was seeing people (a little), but I became all too snuggly with neglecting my social media, marketing became a non-existent anxiety-inducing task, and the drive I once processed to capture every tiny memory and weave it into something magical, appeared to have vanished without a trace.
As I sit here today on what would have been my dad’s birthday 82nd birthday and only a few months from the year anniversary of his death, I am constantly reminded of how driven he was and of how much he believed in me. I am faced with the painful reality of how pissed he’d be that I have sulked for this long and I can hear his words clear as day saying something laughable like, “The shortest distance between two points is a straight-line Jennifer – STAY FOCUSSED” (this is actually something he had written down on an index card in his desk – lol). My dad was my biggest supporter and loved to share in my work. My photography is something that brought us together and it even gave us the opportunity to work together for a short while. He would be heartbroken to know his death caused my passion to waiver and it is for that reason among others that I have had to dig down deep.
Grit is a word my friend Tommy used to use a lot while battling his way through brain cancer. Whenever I was having a hard time or needed a good kick in the pants he would say, “Embrace the suck and move on Tiger.” Those words I have never forgotten, and I hear his voice and have felt his presence a lot throughout this journey. Although I am not quite ready to dance in crowded streets, I am slowly returning to a somewhat recognizable state of “normal” but could not have done so without the constant support and unrelenting encouragement of my family and friends. To those friends who haven’t held my silence and solitude against me – your kindness has not gone unnoticed. To my family who has fought beside me through your own sadness and grief and who still held me while I cried – I am eternally grateful. And to my clients who have continued to support me and have stayed loyal and unwavering, I see you and you mean more to me than you could ever know.
As I reemerge from this difficult chapter – ready for new adventures and magical encounters, I look forward to seeing all of your faces. Thank you for allowing me a moment of vulnerability and it wasn’t as harrowing as I’d imagined. Cheers to a new chapter filled with a thousand mystical moments …. And I look forward to helping you capture each and every one.
And … Happy Birthday Dad!!
