I don't like myself in this photo -- the shape of my mouth, my nose, my eyes and how they all come together.
But then at the same time I'm kind of obsessed with this photo. The mood it carries and the feeling I get when I look at it. It's like a mirror. But an internal one.
And as corny as this may sound, today I just want to write a little bit about how I've been feeling these past few months...on the inside.
I started staring at this photograph and really got an itch to start writing as it kind of helped me to tune into my present: the state of where I am at, the season I am in, what life looks like to me right now. And so on. The thing is, there's been a battle raging in me for the past few months because I'd been so discouraged. And as vague as I'll leave it, it really just had to do with life in general and my progression in it (or lack thereof). I could feel this heavy weight of failure on my shoulders and looking back at how much time I had spent in my career thus far, I began to question my true motifs, my goals, and where my passion really lied. What have I been working towards up until now? Where am I headed? Did I take a wrong turn? And how do I get back to square one? For someone who truly believes that every human being in this world has unique gifts and talents that are meant for good use in the field of his or her purposed passion, it was especially discouraging because I came to this sudden realization that perhaps I was never even passionate about this industry from the start of it all. Questions came flooding into my mind next. Well then how did I end up on this route? Where did I go wrong? How did I not see it? And if it's not this then what is it? And from the inability to really answer any of these questions, all I could do was just sulk. Hard.
I allowed myself an extended period of sulking. I think I really needed it. It gave me a chance to process some things, cry out some others, and somehow ease the clutter in my mind to try and make sense of what my next steps might look like from here. And honestly at this point, I still don't have it all down. I'm still struggling. Because I don't even know what kind of picture I want to paint; what I want that canvas to look like at the end, which genre it even lives in. All I know is that it has to be beautiful and it's going to be. Because I know I was made for more.
I feel like I've always struggled with the process. I'm so impatient. I've always had this obsession to just get things done. My love for the destination has always trumped my love for the actual journey of getting there. Maybe it's a personality thing. I don't know. But it's hit me hard how much I've always hated the process and how much more I really have to learn to enjoy it. I understand that no experience is ever wasted. I get that. But maybe I'll actually get that a few years from now. Maybe I'll look back and realize that this was the chapter in the story that actually made the book interesting. Maybe this long strenuous season of transition is going to be the chapter I read back on one day and hope to God I did something about it. That I didn't just sit there complacent, doing nothing about it. But I actually made a move. I did something. I took a risk. Because I didn't want to risk any regrets later in life. Because life is too short and too precious to live a mundane life doing something you'd rather not be doing. Right? I don't know.
I hate looking at myself in this photograph because all I see is a big question mark.
But then I love it. Because I sense this mystery to it. An integral part of the story.