Category: Expressive

  • identity crisis

    I’m grasping for an identity.

    Because you see, it’s always been about work.

    For years, my identity was in my status in my non-profit work.

    Then, I struggled when I became dependent on SSDI.

    Then, I took up photography.

    Then, I opened a photography business.

    And, for eight full years, I basked in my status as a very part-time wedding and portrait photographer. I may have been very part-time, the business may not have been profitable, but by golly, I was an official photographer.

    And then, earlier this year, for a variety of reasons I won’t go into both heath-wise and money-wise, it became the prudent thing to close the business.

    And at the time, I told myself I would still be a hobbyist photographer.

    And then money got tighter– or more to the point, I got more serious about managing our finances more responsibly, and it became the wise thing to part with some of my camera gear.

    And I didn’t take more pictures for myself, my own personal art, like I said I was going to do.

    And life happened, and interpersonal drama happened, and my hormones are still settling from the hysterectomy, and….

    Well, depressed.

    And worse: struggling with a major identity crisis.

    And of late, I’ve felt like the answer was to move us all into Atlanta, away from Carrollton.

    The truth is, I know I can’t run from my depression. It will follow me.

    And, this house that I am sitting in, when we bought it in 2021, was my dream house. It was the house I wanted to grow old in just like the elderly people who lived here (twice) before us did. The primary bathroom is already outfitted for disability access, even.

    *sigh* I don’t know what I am doing.

    I do know that my psych professional says that seasonal affective disorder is on the rise earlier this year, and so I am sitting here just before bed (the wrong time of day, but I give myself points for doing it at all) with my light therapy lamp as she recommended I start now instead of waiting until late October like normal.

    And, it’s time to write more. I let myself get so caught up in analytics, and audiences, and I forget that the most productive, happiest years of my blogging was when I was using my blog primarily as my journal. And yes, I wanted readers, but the readers came because the content was raw. And real.

    So, here I am, telling you I am still depressed. And I don’t know where it’s going.

    And true to form in typical fashion, in an effort to bat away the true identity crisis and deal with it, a crap ton of job applications went out yesterday.

    Because I keep running from what I need to do: process my traumas, figure out who I am apart from being a wife, mother, and any vocation, and remember that I have been a writer since I was eight years old and that is how I deal with my feelings best.

    Stay tuned. I’m going to try to post more regularly.

  • the sun rose a little bit

    The stunning Grinter Farms in Lawrence, Kansas

    It’s no secret that I have been depressed for a while now.

    Apparently I just needed to go see my aunt and uncle, who moved to Kansas a while back, all by myself without the boys or Jared.

    The above picture was taken at Grinter Farms this past Saturday, just after some hot air balloons took off:

    The morning was stunning.

    But while Grinter Farms was nice, it wasn’t the photo op that made the weekend.

    It was spending time with the people I have known who I have loved and who have loved me and treated me as their own my whole life.

    It had probably been since before I married Jared that I had been to see them by myself.

    And while I was there with them, I remembered that life is not so bad.

    I remembered several craft projects I used to do on a regular basis, projects that would probably make pretty good Etsy store items.

    I remembered that consistency is the key to having a tidy house.

    Best of all: I remembered that I am loved. And very, very lucky.

  • nothing is in focus right now

    I took this photo with the X-S20. Apparently I am not so good as the selfie culture at making the camera work in focus with the full articulating selfie screen.

    Yeah. Depressed.

    Feeling my age, my ribs are on the move in a twisty way that isn’t fun feeling. Bored, tired of Carrollton.

    Jared tries. He took me out to the Marina again tonight, after taking me on our weekly outing for Burger King ice cream cones.

    Fun fact, at least in Carrollton, GA: You can get two ice cream cones for $2.12. That’s the main eating out we do during the week.

    And all that was well and good. Until I started in on how I hate Carrollton, how I want Jared to find another job so we can move to Atlanta.

    The same old same old.

    And I don’t know why, when I feel rejected, I go on this whole self-implosion thing.

    Something happened last week that made me change some plans in the next couple of weeks. And as it happens, I am going to see my aunt and uncle instead of doing the thing that I was going to do, and I will likely have a far superior time seeing them and being loved on and all that than I would have had doing the other thing, which was probably riskier than I really want to admit it likely was, to begin with.

    And I’m still mad about last December. Mostly because I’m mad at myself for thinking that inviting drama back into my life was a good idea at all.

    I’ve spent the last nine months pretty darn unhappy because of it. And had an arguably necessary-anyway hysterectomy because I got all freaked out about cancer risks because of that encounter.

    I guess in that respect, I should be grateful for last December. It probably wouldn’t have occurred to me to worry about cancer risks if I hadn’t had that encounter last December.

    And mostly I go around mad all the time because it feels, to me, like just about everybody in my life has some sort of purpose, has their shit together, and I’m just sitting at home.

    And I guess it’s accurate to say that some of the people I have in mind do actually have their shit together.

    But none of them are married to Jared Price. I’m the only one who got to do that.

    And probably not many of them are told on a daily basis the things he tells only me.

    It’s about now in the depression cycle that I realize that it’s been about a week since I’ve done a gratitude list.

    The truth is, not much about my life has turned out the way I thought it would, or honestly, the way that I wanted it to.

    And I mostly walk around mad, angry at the world, and despondent because of it.

    And I think back to that 18 year old and I would tell her to ditch all the preconceived notions about how life should go. That it’s all about to change, like, tomorrow.

    But probably, she’d already known that for a good couple of years or so.

    Tomorrow is a new day. I’ll go volunteer in the city with “my ladies,” as Jared calls them.

    And then I’ll go see my aunt and uncle for the weekend, and probably have some yummy Costco mac and cheese, which I haven’t actually had since the last time I saw them, in February.

    And, I do actually realized how privileged it is that I was born into the family that I was born into, and that we can afford to feed ourselves despite the fact that I do not work.

    It does not negate the fact that I feel somehow that I am not living up to my potential, and there have been missed opportunities. And squandered opportunities. And lost time. and lost relationships.

    But tomorrow, I can try again.

  • and life goes on

    The Marina a little after 8 AM this morning

    I’m actually not sure how depressed I actually am, versus exactly how much I was really just dreading the first day of school.

    The first day of school is today.

    And Liam and Jared got off in time for Liam to be at school for Senior Sunrise. Oliver and I spent about 30 minutes in traffic because for some reason, the first week of school requires people to not drive like they normally would. And for some reason, all those parents who normally do not drive their kids to school, whose children usually ride the bus, have to bring their precious darlings for the first week or so. Or people forget how the crossing guards who direct traffic really do know what they are doing. It’s a thing for sure, the first week of school.

    But, I managed to get them off to school. I managed to get to the Marina for a shortly-after-sunrise photo, which was a regular thing last Spring. I managed to come home and make my coffee. I managed to scoop the cat litter. I managed to get every bit of trash in this house taken out to the dumpster and the dumpster was taken to the street. I’m making my breakfast. I did my meditation. I allowed myself my normal doomscrolling.

    It’s time for a new routine.

    And just for today, I am going to focus on one thing at the time. After breakfast, I intend to do my yoga. I might allow myself a mid-morning nap.

    Food routines have been hard too, and that has also meant there have been entirely too many sweets etc. But this morning I let myself have a piece of my brie before taking Oliver to school. I had my protein bar when I got back. Now that I am having my coffee, water is boiling because I am hungry enough for a real meal so I am fixing myself some Banza pasta with goat cheese and garlic and sunflower seeds.

    And, all that means that I will probably end up being back to somewhat of my intermittent fasting, with eating finishing up around 3 PM. Which is a good goal.

    I feel like I am getting back into a writing routine, which is welcome. It’s strange to think that I was so frozen for so long. I’m still writing about superficial stuff which is okay– the other will come I am sure. But for now, this is enough.

    And it’s a pretty darn good feeling to feel better about the world this morning.

  • depressed

    Jared and Oliver at the Marina earlier tonight. Schneide-Kreuznach Cinelux-Ultra 85mm f2 on GFX 50sII

    I’m not sorry I sold the second GFX body.

    I’m not sorry I sold 4 of my GFX lenses.

    I’m not sorry I quit the part-time job I’d gotten in July.

    I’m thrilled that Porter is off at UGA and has a beautiful brand new apartment in a brand new apartment building.

    I’m thrilled that Liam has a vibrant social life, and that Oliver is running cross country.

    I’m not even all that sad that school starts tomorrow.

    And yet, I sit here, depressed.

    I tried today. But we were up late last night, so I knew I wasn’t making it to church. When I did wake up to get up close to 11 am today, I really thought I would be able to do the cleaning I want to do today.

    But my body feels so heavy.

    So, when Jared got home from church, it was Jared that did laundry. It was Jared who did dishes. It is Jared who is getting the boys ready for the first day of school tomorrow.

    It was Jared who managed to get me and Oliver out of the house and down to the Marina earlier this late afternoon.

    I have managed to feed myself today and take the photo above and that is about it.

    I guess I am just struggling with where I fit into the world anymore.

    We got Porter moved in on Friday and were back in time to go to the football game Friday night.

    I didn’t feel much like being social. I should have known then where things were headed.

    Poor Abby has to deal with me shutting her out when I am like this too, when all she wants to do is be my therapy dog.

    It’s 8:09 PM, so I will go to bed soon. I will sleep through the night so I can be up tomorrow morning to get Liam and Oliver to school since it will be raining and Jared won’t be able to ride his scooter.

    And I will do what I can to stay out of the bed tomorrow.