Last month a photovangelist saved my life

"The difference between a rut and a grave is the depth" ~Gerald Burrill

Life has a way of breaking you down - almost in a scientific sense - to your base elements. And you suddenly find yourself a collection of pieces... to be sifted, sorted and put back together. 

When I got the opportunity to finally be shot solo by Saddi Khali, I was in pieces such as those.

It wasn't my first tryst with Saddi: in March last year, The Mr and I did a couple's shoot and it was

incredible. I thought then that I had been changed, but I really had no idea! The photos were amazingly beautiful, and to see ourselves reflected - six years of marriage, one child and, 20kgs later - as still vibrant and sexy blew my mind! I was sold. I was an evangelist for the photovangelist - telling all and sundry about the experience and recommending it to anyone that would give me the chance.

But then, I went solo. A month ago to be exact. 

I was ripe for the experience: almost 40kgs overweight, two children into it, my lifeless career hanging by a thread. I knew something had to give but I wasn't sure what, when or how.

The pre-shoot talk happened without me even noticing it. We spoke casually, catching up on events since the last shoot. I shared. He listened to me and challenged me. Little did I know I was being processed... and not in the way of something being forcibly done to me - but as though somehow something was happening within me. I was seeing myself with more clarity with every conversation. 

Saddi has an incredible gift. His special 'eye' is not limited only to the two he uses to find focus from behind the lens; it is also in the way he reads his subjects. He has an uncanny way of just knowing... of knowing things he really has no business knowing. It was as if he immediately knew all of the things that I was not saying - and he called me out on *each* and *every* single one of them.

On the day of the shoot, I was nervous - not about dis-robing, but about everything that would happen afterwards. Many will tell you that Saddi shows you the beauty that he sees in you (and that is there to begin with). That's true. But he also shows you what you are putting out into the world. When you combine a high-resolution camera and natural light, your unintentional bitch-face is hard to deny. BUT when - moments later - you see how you look when you are relaxed, when you are happy, when you are comfortable; you cannot imagine any other way to be.

It was the contrast of the two that changed my life. I cannot begin to describe how it feels to see yourself as more than beautiful... stunning, gorgeous, a true work-of-art. Not in an egotistic or delusional way, but simply because the proof is right there in front of you, on the display screen of this man's camera. Exhibit A. Irrefutable, undeniable, real.

You have no choice but to see yourself differently. To believe differently of yourself. To expect different things from yourself. You simply have no choice. 

That is what the Saddi Khali experience did for me. I could not, in good conscience, bear witness to the overwhelming beauty that is me in my natural state (... and believe me, I was overwhelmed) and then go home and continue to be anything less. 

I realised that the pursed lips and terrified eyes I had been walking around with are neither beautiful nor natural. They are not the me that is meant to be. 

And when you know what you can be as well as what you are not - the next step is a no-brainer. You want to be that beauty all the time. You want to be comfortable, you want to be real. And so you reevaluate the fakeness in you, the wackness in you. The pursed lips and terrified eyes of your spirit; you want them gone.

It's been just about a month now and, since my shoot, life has opened up as if it's been waiting for me all along. I've opened up too. It feels like the universe is conspiring to affirm my potential for greatness at every available turn.

And my soul faces every moment with a smile that spreads right from my lips to my eyes - no more pursing, no more terror... just open.

What a difference a day makes

“There is only one corner of the universe you can be certain of improving, and that's your own self.” ~Aldous Huxley

Hard to believe it's July already... and even harder to believe July's almost over. Little Tyke will have been in Z for exactly eight months tomorrow. I dare not even try and imagine the changes that have happened in *his* life since then, so I'll just focus on the changes in mine.

For years now, I've been yearning for more fulfillment in my professional life, yet to even try to make that happen for myself without a fool-proof plan seemed selfish at best. The fact my current job was not even showing me the simple courtesy of paying my bills wasn't helping. I was in a place where everything was about money, making ends meet; just month-to-month to month stuff. Depressing as hell. The goal became to simply get a job that paid me better, forget about a job that actually made me feel better.

Of course, that went against everything I stood for. Every fibre of my being rebelled against that paradigm and the agonising conformity of it all. But, I was a mother; a wife; part of a team - so I needed to do what I needed to do. For the team. I had accepted it. I was ready for it. I was going to do it.

But the universe, as I was to later find out, had something else in store for me.

Anyway, once - with the help (i.e. persistent 'advice') of The Mr - I got over my paralysing sense of loyalty to my 'boss', I started looking. I wrote her a letter explaining it all... How I was struggling financially, how I had a passion for interior design and how I, basically, didn't know what the Fuck I was doing! (The phrase, 'You ain't gotta go home, but you gotta get the hell up outta here' comes to mind). I'd had it. I didn't say it in as many words, but I had had it!

The search started off with gusto. I knew I wanted to go into online & digital marketing. I was so interested in it, I knew I could do it and I'd be great at it. All I needed was to get my foot in the door. But eventually, the hours and hours of research; a multitude of CV drafts, applications, customised cover-letters and fruitless follow-ups had me spent. I broadened the search to include even the same brain-dead mundanity I had been doing for the past six years. Still nothing. Enthusiasm waned and soon enough my old friend, self-pity, came back for an extended visit.

It was The Mr (bless his soul) who kept things going... sending my CV out, speaking to his friends, acquaintances and any recruitment agents he'd found along the way. Then, finally, it happened. A breakthrough. The Mr made the hook-up and I sealed the deal with the interview. I started working there almost as quickly as the opportunity came about. And it's been beautiful!

It's a small start-up and the position is just part-time and only a supplement to my current salary, but it also happens to have placed my foot squarely in the exact door I wanted. The best part is my 'new boss' has so much passion and vision. It's infectious. I feel valued; like I'm a part of something.  So now, even though the end-of-the-month still comes with the same old worries, somehow everything has changed. The money doesn't even really matter because for the first time in a long time I'm loving what I do.

The biggest lesson? It's actually made me a better mother; a better wife; a better part of the team. All because it's made me a better ME!

What happened?

God has given you one face, and you make yourself another.  ~William Shakespeare

My little sister wrote a note about me on Facebook today. She's 18. She wrote about how much she admired me, how much she used to (and still does) want to be like me....

i remember sneaking in to your room when you were out of the house back when i used to visit you and Daddy over the holidays. I thought you were the coolest, most creative person on the face of the planet! The glow in the dark stars on the ceiling, the handwritten poems on the wall, all the old bottles you kept as candle holders. Your room became the best room in the house for me: not only was it filled with the most fascinating things, but also because i hoped that the longer i sat at your desk, the more i read your poems, the longer i listened to your Lauryn Hill cd, the more i would become like you. To me the ultimate compliment was "You have the same laugh as your sister" As soon as i had a steady hand i would paint my nails dark blue with white spots, the way i had seen you do. I started collecting teddy bears because of the three that stayed on your bed well into your varsity years. I still want to be just like you when im older. My awe over you has not faded through the years. Beauty, kindness, creativity. Forever the coolest big sister.

I was transported. Instantly. To a time that now seems so long ago. To a me that now seems so far away. But I was also forced to ask some questions (as I so often do), "Was it all really so long ago and far away?" "What's really changed?". I'm still me... right? Apart from the job, the bills, the kid, the husband... I'm still me. Or am I? Should I be? Never I was more confident, never happier, never more sure of anything than I was back then. That can only be good. Right?

It's the perennial paradox of my 'adult' life... being the same, while being so different. How does that happen? What switch did I flip? WTF happened?? Why shouldn't I still have poems on my wall, and glow-in-the-dark stars on my ceiling? Why shouldn't I still be the same big sister that sparked a little girl's imagination and filled her with the possibilities of all that can be - with a little faith in yourself and a little strength of your convictions?

I'm older. I know more. And yet, never have I felt smaller and less sure.

Back then, I wasn't afraid to be wrong. I wasn't afraid to live... because life was all I had. The raw experience of it; the heady intoxication of it. Alive and in the moment was the only way to be.

Fuck fear! Fuck propriety! Fuck me... I have no idea what the fuck I'm doing!

Feels good to be back!

Love one another and you will be happy.  It's as simple and as difficult as that.  ~Michael Leunig

The Mr and I are... well, wonderful - to be frank.

Little Tyke is gone again, and this time it feels like we are doing it right. We're taking advantage and making the most of it. It almost feels like we're dating again.. fun, spontaneity, can't-get-enough-of-each-other-ness. It's back and it's strong. Part of me feels like I should be ashamed/embarrassed that it's the departure of our son that has spurred this on. But I'm done with that. I'm done with guilt. I'm done with denying myself the right to feel good about what's good in my life.

We are blessed. Blessed to have parents (and in-laws) that are there for us and willing to do what they can to help us out. Blessed to know that although our son is not with us, he's in a place of love. Blessed to have the opportunity to almost start again; get ourselves right before we have our baby (back again). What is there to be ashamed of there? The only room for shame is ahead of us - in assessing, at the end of it all, how well we've used this opportunity we've been given. Will we be better parents? Will we be better spouses? Will we be better people? For now, all I see are blessings and we should be - above all - grateful for them.

I've rarely (if ever) been filled with such a sense of power over my own destiny. I've known it for a long time, and anyone who's *ever* read this blog can testify to that, but now I see it. I feel it - definitively and conclusively. I've decided to stop being afraid and start being free. It's already working. By changing me, I've seen (albiet in very small ways so far) how much I can change my life.

When it comes to me and The Mr, I guess I just never truly realised just how big a contribution I've been making to whatever inadequacies I felt there were in our marriage. But I'm done with that too. I know what I want and I know it's possible because that's where we started off to begin with. There's a reason why I married that man and why he married me, and I think we're finding each other again. But we're finding each other as a married couple in 2010, instead of trying to be the girlfriend and boyfriend we were in '05.

What really blows my mind, though, is that as different as 'we' are now, we are actually still the exact same people. We spent the whole of yesterday just drinking vodka and listening to music and talking, then lying in bed and watching movies... just the two of us. That's exactly how we used to spend our days when we were dating - sharing the things we love (including each other!). What felt great was it wasn't some pre-planned 'date night' that all the experts say married couples should have. It was two people who absolutely love each other's company just having a good time.

It made me realise how much time I used to spend longing for what was instead of living what is. It's been here all along, I just didn't recognise it because it doesn't look the same as it did five years ago. It's actually better!

Here we (she) go (comes)

I told my mother-in-law that my house was her house, and she said, "Get the hell off my property."  ~Joan Rivers

She's coming again... Oh god! Not again.

I look at the smudges and tiny fingerprints on my windows, the build-up of dust on the propellers of my fan, the toy that's fallen behind the TV stand, the tangle of wires in my study and I know I will be judged on each and every one of them. I know it won't matter that I was going to get around to them. It won't be an indication of how busy and tired and stressed I've been - only exhibits A, B, C and D in proving the prosecution's case... in proving that I'm simply not good enough for her son.

Dread. I'm filled with it. I can never be comfortable when she's around. Four years of marriage later and I'm still so concerned about the impression I make. Wondering "what's expected of me" and "am I doing it"? Should I be waking up at 4am everyday like she does; toiling over a hot stove for hours at a time; on my hands and knees tackling wall-skirting grime?

It really grates me that, as a guest in my house, she never just goes with the flow of my household. Her way is not the way we do things; but by her every action she sends a constant and succinct message that, as far as she's concerned, it sure as hell should be. If that's not judgement, I don't know what is.

It doesn't help that - yet again - the visit coincides with the sudden departure of my son. There's a very dangerous association developing there - which I will choose to ignore for the moment (got enough psychological baggage to deal with as it is).

Four days to go 'til she arrives... *Cue deep, heavy sigh*