(All pics. snapped on 8/05/11)
Not to toot my own horn or anything, but when it comes to adversity - I feel that I am inching ever closer to mastering the art of rolling with the punches.
Over the course of these last few years that I've spent candidly blogging about my personal life, and my self-portraits - I have gradually learned to embrace being a scandal in the eyes of so many people here in my community. Also, the fact that I have nearly zero interaction with anyone in my immediate family anymore (save my own offspring), literally does nothing to phase me in the slightest.
It may sound strange, but I'm perfectly content to assume the role as black sheep of my family and an outcast of local society. I don't flinch anymore, when I hear secondhand - that (once again) I was the target of ridicule at a cocktail party to which I was of course, not invited...thanks entirely to the thick skin that ensconces me like ironclad armor.
I'm proud to say that I'm even learning how to cope with my grim fiscal picture. Like seriously? If you guys had only just an inkling of how financially screwed I am - you'd likely be stricken with a wicked case of heartburn. But, rather than let any of it eat away at me - I've chosen to adopt the mindset that thinking negatively about such issues can do nothing to resolve them. And although because of this, I could easily be accused of peering at my life from behind a pair of rose-colored glasses - staying upbeat and positive and sincerely believing that soon everything simply has to get better - makes it a helluva lot easier to get through most days.
There is however, one area to which I am still unable to apply these Pollyanna-esque tactics - and that my sweet peeps - is in regards to matters of the heart. The blithe, laissez-faire attitude, and all the tough girl resilience goes right out window - whenever things get wonky between myself and a love interest.
Case in point - last week (for some unknown reason) "my date" seemed hellbent on putting me through my paces...and for four agonizing days and nights, it felt as if there was a noxious tire fire smoldering in my gut. I wanted to eat nothing, but knew that I needed to - and so I did manage to choke down a few tablespoons of peanut butter. Thank goodness I had work to take my mind off of my misery for a few measly hours each day, but for the remainder - all I could do was worry...and stew...and sulk.
I don't know about you guys, but if ever I get into a funk - I become virtually immobile and practically useless. Gone is the motivation to do anything other than muddle through each tediously long day, and ride out the seemingly endless, sleepless nights. By last Friday, I was on my fourth consecutive day of that shit, and because of it - I had become utterly disconsolate. Exacerbating the overwhelming feeling of hopelessness and desolation, my kids left with their dad for a week-long vacation...
There have been numerous times in the recent past, when self-portraiture has proven to be a very effective means by which to tap into those unpleasant emotions, while simultaneously killing what would've otherwise turned into sedentary, melancholy hours. Friday evening, I was not only aware of the fact that the time had drawn nigh to snap some new pics., but also - that doing so might just lift my spirits. And so with nary a plan for what to do when I got there, I galumphed with my gear up the road to a corn field, in the hopes that I might lose myself in my art for a spell.
Over the first of the two hours that I spent snapping pics., I was admittedly glad to be busy - but discouraged that I still felt so sad. I worked with about as much energy as a corpse, and was only shaken from my catatonia when a pair of enormous male deer scared the Bejesus outta me, by thundering through the corn field, and straight through my shoot - it was crazy! Umpteen acres that they had to traverse, and somehow those bucks found me like a needle in a haystack.
I stood there for a minute, waiting for the surprise adrenaline rush to subside - and once my hands had stopped trembling, I went back to work.
By the time it got too dark to continue shooting anymore, I realized that I'd become so immersed in taking my pics., that I had managed to forget all my woes...but when my phone rang and I saw that it was "my date" on the line - it was time to face reality once again.
I really have no way of knowing for sure, how things will end up between me and "my date", especially since my losing record with men has me (almost) convinced that I'm cursed in the relationship department. But there is one thing that I do know for certain - when all else fails, self-portraiture will come to my rescue.