I’ve always liked New Year’s Day. Like the first page of a crisp, new journal, we get to decide what to fill the lines with. Maybe it starts as a place for checklists, a place to dream, a place to remember, a place to vent — whatever you want or need it to be. Inevitably it evolves over time, just as it should. This year, this entry is home to reflection, honesty, and a promise to myself and you.
Though 2018 was a year of growth for me, it was also a glaring reminder of how much more I have to learn, how much room I have to stretch as a human, and as a storyteller.
I had my busiest year with photography in 2018. Although I’m thankful for every opportunity the year brought me, I recognize that it was simply my “busiest” — not my most efficient year, not my most creative year, and though there were some incredible projects, it wasn’t even my most enjoyable year. I took on more projects that paid well but felt like I was in a coma, creatively. I made the decision to take on those projects for that season, knowing it would allow me to get my finances in a better place. However, it took a toll on the part of my heart that beats a little faster when I am creating something I love.
I recently read an encouraging article by Tina Essmaker about finding a healthier balance with your work — I haven’t stopped thinking about it since. At the top of my 2019 to-do list is to create an (admittedly imperfect) plan to find a balance between running a successful business and making room to grow creatively, rest, and explore new mediums, ideas, hobbies, and passion projects.
My good friend, Ashley asked me a question this summer that’s been eating at me for months. “Veeks, what story do *you* want to tell?“
For my entire career, I’ve been telling someone else’s story, rarely one that I felt connected to on a deeper level. I took pride in being able to bring someone else’s vision to life, though rarely was I emotionally invested in it. I always yielded to the client, to the subject, to their vision. I’m a helper, a 2.
I still don’t have an answer for you, Ashley. But I’m giving it a good think and I’m scheduling more time to explore different causes I care deeply about and see what story it is that I want to tell, even if it’s just for a season. I know my heart wants to tell the story of the people — the forgotten, the misunderstood, and the softer voices drowned out by the stronger ones.
The truth is, I’ve used my insecurities about being a “writer” as an excuse not to share stories. I’ve had anxiety about writing since I was a little girl – all the way back to when I was learning English as my second language in elementary school, desperately trying to blend in with my peers. Now my fears are misrepresenting someone’s heart or message while sharing a photo, forever feeling inadequate and battling imposter syndrome, worrying that people see my frequent grammatical errors instead of hearing the message I’m hoping to share. There are endless folders on my hard drive containing photos and memories that I’ve never shared simply because the idea of captions or writing a blog felt too daunting. (Just this summer, I went to England, Lithuania, and France and didn’t share a single photo from that trip — not for lack of images, rather poorly navigating my emotions on a trip that felt too big to express in words, so the photos got buried as a result.) I’m not proud of it, nor am I dismissing the idea of sharing it later, but social media has created an unnecessary pressure to push out content constantly, and though the nudge is good for some people, it’s proven paralyzing to me.
In 2019 I promise will look for a balance — starting with being more open with you about my actual life. For years I kept my little world incredibly closed off and out of the spotlight, not only because I think some things are just meant to be lived and not shared with thousands of strangers, but I needed the separation between my professional work and my home life. However, when I think about the irreplaceable friendships and remarkable people I’ve met because of little phone apps like Instagram, I recognize the good that comes from being more vulnerable, more transparent and letting people into your world. I still firmly believe not everything needs sharing, but my other extreme hasn’t proven perfect either, so I’m challenging myself to peak out a bit from under my turtle shell.
It won’t be an overnight transition, though I wish January 1 just simply made things so. I had every best intention with my NY goals on NYE, and I still somehow started 2019 with coffee and an oversized bagel slathered with cream cheese and guilt. I have areas of my life that I regularly complain about (most of which I know how to improve on — like a healthy diet), but in the same breath I recognize the value of a quick maybe-less-nutritious meal because it meant I had a chance to hang out a little longer with my dad just before he drove back across the mountains, as it would be a while until I see him again.
2019 is the year I’ll learn to be kind to myself and to extend that kindness to those around me — Lord knows we all need it. And I promise to share bits of my journey along the way, flawed as they may be.
