I recently read a blogpost written by a friend, it was so full of life and feelings and honesty. Afterwards I felt a kind of miss. A missing of processing, sharing and working through my own feelings and thoughts. I felt words all jumbled up in my head that wanted to get out. And a quiet question in the back of my mind.
Maybe I should blog again?
But where do I start? At the beginning, with all the stuff I missed? Or now in the present, what feels raw and new?
When I think of blogging I feel worry and resentment, I don’t shoot fashion any more. I don’t feel a calling for it like I once did. And everyone knows me for my fashion work, they expect it, they want to see it, why would anyone want to read about my life without it?
I used to blog to make sense of myself, to share things I learned in hopes that it might help others. To outspokenly express my fiery spirit, whether it was about dropping out of university, travelling abroad, my constant battle with anxiety throughout my life. And while I’m not quite that girl anymore – I’m softer, more fragile, wiser, understanding that the world can be a little darker when you slow down and really look. And my optimism has taken a hit, my spirit dampened, and I’m not as strong as I once was… but I’m more sensitive now, more giving, in-tune with others and selfless. Maybe I do have something to share, and maybe at the end of the day I only need to write for myself. Maybe I’ll gain a little bit of that fire back. But in all honestey I just want to write some truth. Truth about how it can be hard transitioning from early twenties to mid twenties, how having to make money just to live can really suck, how being a grownup is both cosy and pretty boring, how confusing life can be, what it’s like when someone you love is falling apart, scary stuff, and beautiful stuff. How one day you feel really good and the next you feel like you never want to venture out from under the covers again.
I talk openly about this stuff with people I meet on my daily encounters, friends, family, strangers. And each time I see recognition in their eyes. A fear they were feeling alone, possibly about that time they had had a panic attack and they worried it made them weird so they didn’t tell anyone. How they feel unhappy for no reason sometimes. And we talk about good stuff, like helping one another, a calming tea that great to get you to sleep, or a yoga class that helps with stress. I talk about this stuff because if I keep it bottled up inside I feel crazy and seperate from the world, when I talk it aloud I realise I’m not as alone as I thought.
I’m going to share here what feels right. Whatever spills out. The way it’s always been. But even less structured, or calculated or fearing that someone won’t book me for a job because I share my heart here.
So much has changed since I used to blog regularly. A 22 year old girl on her once in a life time trip around the world.
Now I’m an almost 25 year old woman. I run my own business full-time and also consult for other businesses. I employ my partner full-time. I am a little confused and often lost. I’m journeying. I feel like I’ve started all over again, born again, a completely different person. Like I flew the nest and broke my wing and I need to learnt to fly again. I think we all experience these storms in our lives, maybe at milestones like 25, 30, 50 etc. We transition into different people, and whilst thats scary it can also be exciting. I’m at a cross roads, and I’m ready to travel forward and see where I end up this time.
I might have not been blogging or sharing images here, but that certainly doesn’t mean I haven’t been shooting. This past year I’ve taken thousands of images, of life and love and the ordinary everyday. I can’t help it, I’ve been a photographer for a third of my lifetime now, it’s as much a part of me as my voice. And I’m often that girl wandering the path, deeply lost in her own thoughts, noticing the way the light hits that door just right, or how the colours are melding into one another on the streets at sunset, a beautiful old building facade or patterns in the sand. And I steal a quick picture, to savour that beauty forever, pocket it, document it and keep it for myself.
Here is a few of those snapshots I’ve taken over the past year. A very small select few of those ordinary moments.
Our cosy spareroom, my favourite room in our home. Over the next few months we’ll be moving into this room and transforming our bedroom into a home office/studio. I’m secretly most excited to wake up to this soft light every morning.
When we moved overseas I gave up most of my books. These are a select few that made the cut for sentimental reasons, and a few more I’ve started collecting again from opshops and book depository. Oh and I finally found a ficus!
Taken on my wanderings to and from meetings or coffee dates with friends or errands or simply just exploring.
Cherishing Shoku Iku dates with my soul sister, Isabel.
Full moon walks around my neighbourhood.
Coffee shop treat days, pots of camomile tea and soaking in the sunshine.
A short trip to Brisbane in the summertime. Hot days, balmy nights, explosions of colour, the tropics.
When I’ve had a long day or feeling particularly fragile you’ll find me here. In my safe space, with a cuppa tea, my favorite candle, lavender oil infused bath water and a magazine.
Warmer months beside the sea. I’m counting down the days until it’s warm enough to swim everyday again.
Early morning walk on a trip to Adelaide, while the city still sleeps. Capturing the way light travels between buildings and the cute retro feel of the city.
A mural that makes me nostalgic.
A misty morning walk in between the vines. A night away to re-cooperate after a busy wedding season. Drinking wine in the spa bath and ordering in indulgent Indian takeaway. Breathing the clean air and feeling it reach into my bones.
Lonely.
