In my early twenties, I felt as though I had finally found myself. I began to get into shape and feel better about my overall appearance. My self portraits were blooming and you could just see how good I felt in my own skin. Thus, my photography career took shape and I was scheduling clients, doing self-love workshops, and creating this magical home space with my true partner in life.
But somewhere in all of this, I lost my light. I lost the fire that pushed me to create the art that once fueled me. We had moved into a city where the people felt wrong to me, save for a few gems I now call my dearest friends. However, this space drained my light until I barely recognized myself anymore. I struggled for a year trying to rediscover this identity I felt I had lost. What was my title? Did I have a title? Am I a photographer or was I just some struggling wanna-be artist stuck in comparison mode with a plethora of other photographers in the field. As many say, comparison is the death of art.
I thus entered hermit mode, and my relationship became more than strained. I lost my ability to be anything other than depressed, angry, and cold. But journeys of human nature are not linear- we fall many times before getting back up, only to possibly fall down again. And you know what, it's okay. We are allowed to fall. We are allowed to struggle. There is some twisted and masochistic beauty in tragedy. For when we fall and rise again, we are better for it. Stronger. The mind made clear of all that had torn us down. We find the roots which bring growth and we thrive.
When something dies, the earth takes it back into the ground and uses it to make new life. Such is the death of my own ego. I had to allow my identity of who I thought I was and wanted to be- to become who I truly am and who I am meant to be. Crazy, right? But also, not that crazy at all. You see, when we let go and allow the threads of fate to flow freely, we are guided in a much gentler way to where we need to be. And I will tell you right now, what we pre plan in our minds at a younger age will look nothing like the beauty of fate.
I have come to know the most magical of humans, and fey, shaman, alchemists, etc., in this romantic tragedy of my twenties. I would not know them if I had not gone through these growing pains. I would not have the most loving, artistic, and supportive partner if I had not let go and allowed myself to break from the standards of a working society. It's not all rainbows and butterflies, unless it's a day at Justin's fairytale home, but it is such a magical life. The earth breathes with such happiness some days that I forget I just need to look up at the sky and wander into the clouds. I need to write down my emotions that fill me daily, surround myself with the most comfy of people, and eat nourishing food that leaves my body warm and fuzzy. We have the most simply complicated lives on this whole planet. Grab a mirror, smile to that reflection, and thank them for existing.
I send so much love to you, reader. May the Fey find you even at your darkest of times and shower you with pixie dust.
