The Real Me | Guest Blog Feature

October 2, 2015


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A couple months ago a long time friend & fellow photographer, Lauren Wakefield, asked me to write a post for her #wcw series sharing the real me. The me that isn’t always shared on my social media posts. The human in me. The raw and unbound. Just some facts and then a little piece about whatever was on my heart.

The last couple years have been years of big transitions. Although I’m so happy with where they have lead me, at times there were many obstacles. I still deal some of it at times. I finally reached a point where to fully get passed it was to share it. It’s not perfect by any means, not even close. But, my story is my own. And, it’s mine to own.

I jumped at the opportunity to write for Lauren’s blog and started a document that I wrote in over a few days. And when the time came to submit it I read it once. I knew if I didn’t send it immediately I’d throw it out and not write anything. So I sent it. And then I felt like puking. Was I doing the right thing? Was it too much? Was it good enough? Am I even good enough to write this? SHIT?! What does she want from me?!!

The response was overwhelming. From many people I didn’t know to those who had been beside me the entire journey. There was this urge to share it on my own blog. I just decided to wait a bit to share it with you.

I live, work, and thrive in this industry that’s all about marriage. Yet in my own life that was one of my greatest failures. Yet that’s made me believe more in it than ever. We don’t truly learn from successes. We learn from failures. I’ve learned a lot. I refuse to let it stand in my way, make me feel like I’m not good enough to photograph weddings, or define me. But there is power in sharing our mistakes. In being vulnerable. It provides the landing for us to connect. As the wedding season slows down this blog goes back to being more of my journal to connect with you. So… I’ll start it with this little piece.


I don’t own a microwave,  a toaster, or a broom. Or a plunger. Because those are not fun items to buy.

I’m a mess. Not even a hot mess.

I’m blunt and I swear. A lot.

I’m terrible with money. Well terrible with saving and budgeting money. I’m great at spending it. Afterall you can’t take it to the grave with ya.

Sometimes I let my dishes stack up at the sink until there are no more in the cupboards to use. Ok…. most of the time.

I’m divorced.

My dad died when I was 12. And I hate him for leaving me, even though that’s not really how that story goes.

I’m afraid someone will never deeply love me. The kind they talk about in movies and songs. But I believe it’s real even if I never get it.

It kills me to admit when I’m wrong. My body literally aches to admit I am.

Being a mom is hard. I’m a single one at that. At times it straight up sucks. Sometimes a lot of the time. But the highs have always outweighed the lows. And always will.

There is a fine line between thinking and overthinking. So I’m impulsive.

At times I can get lost in the wheel of judging my self worth based on the number of social media followers I have. So dumb.

I’m controlling.

I believe there is a big difference between being alone and being lonely. And that feeling of loneliness is a choice. At times I choose that feeling, I do not know why.

I’m loud.

I only wash my clothes if they have something on them or they stink… and I can’t cover it up with perfume. Laundry is hard. It’s even harder to put it away.

Recently I was told I’m always rushing and it stresses others out. They were right. Turns out rushing stresses me out too.

I usually have no idea what I’m doing and just make shit up as I go. Sometimes it’s works out. And sometimes it really does not.

I am inescapably flawed.

I believe in tolerance and even more so in grace.

7 years ago I married someone. A great and nice someone. But I married them for the wrong reasons. I was slightly aware of this at the time but thought I could make it work. I was wrong. No ones fault but my own. I lost myself there for a while. I told myself that my happiness didn’t matter. In a way saying that I didn’t matter. Just as long as he and our child were happy. In reality we were a unit, and if one isn’t happy then none of us truly are. I ultimately made the decision to leave that relationship. Not overnight by any means. It actually took us a year and a half to separate and then another year and a half to actually submit paperwork and officially divorce. Because divorce isn’t the easy way. Not in our scenario. At times the backlash I received from people I called friends and family felt like too much to bear. And I did my best to only show the happy times on my social media profiles. As hard of a time as it was, there were still happy times. That came with more backlash. I just felt it wasn’t anyones business but my own. And even now I kinda still feel that way. Although a very difficult decision it was the right one. For all of us.

Through it all I learned a lot about tolerance. And a whole lot about grace. I made mistakes. Some much bigger than others. I’m not perfect.

We all have struggles. We all have issues. We all have bad days. But we also all have triumphs, big and small. And some VERY big 😉 Grace with each other goes a long ways.

The real me has a lot going on. Every day is not amazing. Things happen that make a great impact on us. Positive and negative. That doesn’t mean they define us. But, I am lucky to call this life my own. It’s just a work in progress. I hope it always is.


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