I have always had an uncomfortable relationship with cameras. Mirrors. Reflective surfaces. I have a few photos of myself that I like. Most of them are of the first part of my adventure here. They are of a different woman, someone I used to be. In most of these pictures I am in a random european country, I am drunk or drinking, I am smiling wildly. Or singing. In one I am covered in champagne and foam. Others have me dancing on tables. This is the me that is the Life And Soul of whatever party you are having. The me that is escaping a reality that is a little terrifying.
When I went home, I was quiet for a long time. I wasn’t in anyone’s photos. I didn’t drink. Partly because I was scared that if I started I might not stop. I knew I needed to properly grieve and let myself feel all of the things I had been running from. I had to do this on my own and I had to do it under a New Zealand sky.
I haven’t shared many photos of myself here, but as part of my Unravelling, I have been experimenting with my camera. It’s heavy weight in my hands has become more familiar. And I am feeling a little braver.
Brave enough to look you in the eye.