The number of photos I’ve taken this year is pathetic. I’ve gotten back in the habit of blogging in recent months, and that’s helped document parts of 2009, but this year has gone undocumented for the most part. That makes me sad.
The first remedy that came to mind was starting a DailyBooth. I like the idea and have fun checking in on others’ photos, but I’m not going to lie: Taking a self portrait each day scared the hell out of me. I’m not a vain person, but there are some days that are better not saved in photographic history, OK?
Enter my buddy Jenny, who suggested I take on Project 365. Um, PERFECT!
What this means for you, readers, is getting to take an illustrated look into my life each day in 2010. Well, I’ll try to post each day. I’ll have a photo for each day, but I might not get an entry up every day. Some – probably most – photos will be of me in some fashion, but for days when vanity holds me back or when a subject is far more interesting than Yours Truly, you’ll see something (or someone, if they let me) else take center stage.
A couple fair warnings: I am not a photographer. I do not have a fancy camera. I am not a super model. Photo editing and selection have been parts of my past job descriptions, so I do have more experience in this field than many, but do not expect to be blown away or even vaguely impressed.
You’ve already seen me the past two days. Can you handle 365 more in the very near future?
I feel like a phony.
I’ve been praised by others for my strength, bravery and readiness to stand up to infertility and fight dirty, gloves off, no-holds-barred. From the second I heard the bell ring at the start of this fight, I’ve been doing everything I can, researching, paying close attention to my body, recalling the long-forgotten past and mapping out a path for the future.
None of this feels brave or strong. It only feels necessary.
In all my doctors visits over the years, I’ve always been hard-pressed for a solid diagnosis. Unless it was an obvious illness (sinus and respiratory infections, bronchitis, pneumonia, strep, etc.), my token diagnosis was, “It’s something like _________.”
My mother lost her battle with leukemia when she was only 24. I like to blame that on why I’m always convinced my newest ailment will be the one that will surely kill me. It doesn’t help that the battery of tests often included those for Very Scary Illnesses.
I do not like going to the doctor. I feel like I walk out with more frustration than answers – and always less money.
Maybe it’s because I wasn’t expecting a death sentence – I was looking for a life sentence – but seeking medical attention for whatever it was that kept me from ovulating (and who knew what else) was something I never once questioned.
There are difficulties to digest while sitting idle, and there are difficulties to digest while on the run. Starting a family isn’t something I felt deserved to sit on a shelf while I thought. When we decided we wanted to start a family, we wanted to start a family. We didn’t want to start a family only if it was going to be easy. In fact, learning that it was likely going to be a bumpy road made us that much more determined.
After so long of feeling helpless because my body doesn’t work on its own like it should, it was empowering to know that, despite what my body intended, I could at least try to do something to make things right. It actually became essential and kept me from drowning in helplessness. I could wonder all I wanted about what the problem could be, how difficult it would be to overcome or even if it were possible to overcome, but my wondering doesn’t come with the credentials of a medical degree and the experience of treating similar cases.
Despite my doubts in a real diagnosis, I wanted the unknown defined as the unknown, if that’s what it was. It actually means more to me if doctors wonder as well.
It sucks. It’s difficult. It’s easy to be envious when I look around and see so many new babies that are made with little to no effort. Despite all that, this experience is mine. I’ve learned compassion and patience and have stopped to pay closer attention to others whose journeys have been much longer and much more difficult. I’ve gained new heroes, and I hope to play even a small role in teaching the world about fertility,
I read somewhere recently that the biggest problem/fear we ever face is the one we’re currently facing. (I wish I could remember the exact quote and where it came from, and if it comes to me, I’ll report back.) Isn’t that the truth? How many times have you been met head-on by something and wished that problem/fear was as easy as one from your past – or any from the past, for that matter.
Even those people I envy, the ones who seem to sail through life on easy street – even they face life-altering difficulties that set up roadblocks in their life. Everything is relative.
If there’s one thing I’ve learned through all this, it’s that someone, somewhere – probably closer than you’d ever imagine – is feeling the exact same thing at the exact same moment. You are never alone.
I don’t know if that’s so much a comfort as it is a simple reality check.
One more subject for you to think about, dear readers, something that’s been gnawing on my mind: What is a blessing? If children are a blessing, what qualifies some to receive that blessing while others are left without? Is it accurate to label people, relationships and experiences as blessings when it’s quite possible that the actual blessings are the impact each have on our own life?
This … thing. I like it. It’s super soft and has cute pockets at both ends. But is it a scarf? Is it a hat with long ears? How does it work?
Rob bought this for me for Christmas, but it didn’t come with instructions. He claims he saw people wearing them while he was out and about shopping, but he didn’t take notes on how it operates.
This probably wouldn’t be a problem for a normal girl, but up until last year, I was still wrapping my scarves round and round my neck with a clumsy knot until I finally figured out how to loop, swoop and pull in a fashionable (maybe?) way.
But this? It confuses me.
Please help me wear it, and please help me not look like a droopy-eared dope.
(If it’s a fashion mistake, like, say, a snuggie, let me down gently. My fashion-challenged husband bought it for his more-fashion-challenged wife as a sweet, thoughtful gift.)
“Catching Fire” is the second book in Suzanne Collins’s Hunger Games series. The book was released earlier this year, and the publication date for the third and final book in the series – title to be determined – was recently set for August 2010.
I cannot wait.
I was expecting it to be a good book, based off the raving I’ve heard, but it still surprised me. “Catching Fire” achieved the difficult and delivered more twists and turns than its predecessor, giving us a much deeper, more detailed look at Penam and its citizens.
I didn’t think (or, really, wasn’t sure how) it would take the excitement up a notch, but it did. Wow, it certainly did.
It was good to see some of our trusty, old characters, and I’ve even gotten attached to shiny, new characters we meet in “Catching Fire.” What was also nice was “seeing” some old characters who didn’t survive the first book, through memories, some nightmares and tributes (the nice kind, not the doomed kind).
I’m moving this series into my queue of books to recommend to others. It’s an equal-opportunity series that I can see various groups of people across the board falling in love with.
For the record, I’m Team ______. I can’t pick a side. I feel like I know one side so much better than the other, but my knowledge of said character isn’t fair to the debate. One thing I hope for the third book is a chance to get to know the unknown side better. Except … there’s that other side.
I’m zipping my lips/blogging fingers before I spoil something.
One thing’s for sure, I really do want my own mockingjay trinket.
Up next (for real this time!): “The Wild Things,” by Dave Eggers
I hope you all have a wonderful holiday, filled with lots of love and new memories to cherish. Cheers!
