This isn’t a new blog topic. People blog about this shit all the time. I think we do it because it helps. So it’s time for my Reality vs. What You See post.
I love my current 365. I can’t explain why, but there’s something about 365 v.3.5 that I adore. For me, it’s a unapologetic view of our life.
But that feels bullshity for me to say. Unapologetic means raw. And I don’t feel raw when I see my 365. I see wholesome joy. Nothing is mind-blowing exciting. But nothing is heart-breakingly sad. It just is what it is. A really nice/happy/gorgeous view of our life.
And from an online photographer that’s what you’ll get. Some people will feel sad about their own lives because of other people’s photos. That’s always wrong. No one will look at the collection and see what’s in the cracks.
I’m not showing you the cracks. Not because I don’t want to show you, but because it isn’t possible. Some of you might say, “Yes it is!” And you’re wrong.
Why? Because I haven’t fucking seen it anywhere!
And if I have, I probably don’t respect you. You can’t show me a photo of your eight year-old upset because it’s no longer adorable. Show me a photo of your angry 8 year-old and it feels icky. You know it. I know it. There’s a line that parent photographers can’t cross. A pissy 3 year-old is completely different from a pissy 8 year old. A pissy 3 year-old is still capable of breeding nostalgia You can show me messy rooms and messy kids and I love that way more than cleaned scenes. But there’s a bit of joy even in that mess. Some of that joyous mess can still make people jealous for another Photo-life and it’s not the Truth of their life
So the cracks. What’s in the cracks?
The cracks don’t show the nights I forgot to plan for dinner and we’re having cereal again. And I don’t care, but my husband is upset. They don’t show the loads of laundry that had to be wash twice because someone (me) forget to put them in the drawer. They don’t show how I’m a martyr when it comes to household/family chores. The cracks don’t show the pain of change. The photos show us dealing with it, but cracks are filled with me grasping for a life-line. The cracks don’t show you that while I love my husband, there are some days I don’t like him. And some days, he doesn’t like me. And he shouldn’t. The cracks don’t show how we break every single “Bad Verbal Fighting” rule.
The cracks don’t show my exhaustion of doing homework after working all day. The cracks don’t show me “friendly-kicking” my kid so he’ll stop angry kicking his brother on the library floor (my hands were full and no one was listening). The cracks don’t show us missing our friends. The cracks don’t show us wondering how to deal with kid/friend junk. Within the cracks is the anger because we’re out of dog food again. The cracks hold excuses. The cracks are where crisis begins to simmer. The cracks sallow your shame and allow it to fester. The cracks make you beg and readjust your values. The cracks break you and rebuild you. Sometimes every single day.
Life is in the cracks.
I’m not showing you the cracks.
I simply glamorize the brutality of everyday life. Focusing on those cracks would gobble up my soul.
I’m not a fake or a liar, because no one shows the true cracks. It’s impossible, gut wrenching, and exhausting to witness. You have your own cracks to worry about, why watch mine spread or get patched up?
But life is in those cracks. From them we see slivers of beauty and they push us to ask for forgiveness. They wake us up and force us do it all over again. Life boils out and oozes everywhere. I’m showing you us. I’m not showing you what makes us badass because I can’t. It’s not pretty, but you know that already. You’re dealing with cracks too.