“I’m so sorry, I need to cancel our shoot next week. I don’t think I’ll be able to do couples shoots for a while.”
It’s the eyes that get me. I remember the first time I saw them look at their girlfriend that way, on our second date. There was this glow behind them that made their gaze look as warm as the sun. It looked like if it landed on you your skin would tingle and you’d burst open like a flower bud. I started crying then and there, because I was so afraid I’d never feel that look on me.
Yes, I brought my tears and they brought their girlfriend to our second date. It was obviously going to be a good one.
I can’t handle seeing that look anymore, now that I’ve felt it and lost it. Not right now, not yet. Definitely not that intimately, me and my lens being allowed to see a couple’s secret gazes, examining the light in their eyes.
I know I’ll heal. Rationally, at least, my brain knows it. I know I’ll find someone else that looks at me that way. Right now though that gaze makes my world fall apart, the ground fall out from under me, and I feel small and hurt and alone.
I can’t let my pain stop me from doing something I love. I just had to find a new way to enjoy it, and I think I found one. I’d never done macro photography before, but it just seemed… right.
It has been, so far. I’m a ball of ADHD and anxiety. My brain never shuts down and is always running at 500 miles an hour. When a partner asks me what I’m thinking their eyes usually widen with terror as I unleash the whole list of concerns and todos and planning and flow charts that are going into something as simple as one errand.
Something about macro focuses me. Time slows down. My brain stops worrying. I can stand there and stare at a single leaf for a half hour, just waiting for a bug to turn around and look at me.
I observe the world differently. I examine the margins. I check every leaf, every pop of color, every bit of movement. There’s so much happening everywhere. So many beautiful creatures living epic lives on a single blade of grass. It makes my problems feel small in comparison.
I also learn wonderful things I didn’t know before. Did you know that butterflies eat rotten fruit? Because I didn’t, and just how lovely is that bit of knowledge? Up until then I saw the berries falling on my shed as putrescence and mold. Now they’re the reason beautiful creatures get to thrive.
I think it’ll be the same for me. Right now my heart is bruised and oozing, but something wonderful will grow from it.
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