This morning I ran across a post from a fellow photographer. I have read her blog and Facebook posts on and off, mostly following her photography journey, as she inspires me. I remember seeing a post with photos of her and her husband. I had a momentary twinge of jealousy at the time, its rather strange that I remember feeling that. It may have been that the images and her life were what I was coveting for myself. My own personal dream of being married, happy, gorgeous, successful, serene, healthy etc. etc.
As I read her blog this morning, I realised that the real picture is so much different to how it had formulated in my imagination. I don’t know the details, but reading her posts and what she has shared, sat with uncomfortable familiarity with me.
I also became aware that there are people who I have met in my own world who have a skewed perception of my world. I’ve had some make comments to me and have been astounded by their inaccuracy.
I would not like everyone to know ‘my story’. Not the one I tell them, or allow them to walk through with their judgments and dirty feet, but the real one. The ugly one. The real one. The one I hide from view due to its sordidness.
And so here we are, all of us, on this path of life with our baggage and hangups, all just putting on this face. But we have to put on the face. It’s what gets us through the mud and mess, the disappointments, the deep hurts, the losses, the failures, the slipups, the dirt, It’s what saves us from having the scabs picked off and the sores exposed over and over again. Its how we cope.
Life and love are fragile.
We learn that promises are not always forever. That people are going to hurt us, disappoint us, drop us, cheat and stray. The ones we believed would never leave, do leave.
Next time you look at the album of my life, or your friends life, or that pretty girl with cool clothes and oodles of confidence – there’s a damn good chance she’s just doing her best to get through.
Featured image found here
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