While going to sleep a few nights ago I started thinking back to the last time I was photographed. It’s what I do. It’s who I am. Yet, I’m never in photographs, especially during the last year.
My eczema has been horrible since having Maeve. My doctors don’t know what’s causing it, but I can’t get it under control. I’ve dealt with it my entire life, but it’s never been to this degree. It’s covering my entire face and neck. It’s dry, cracked, and bloody from constantly scratching (yeah, not a pretty visual).
I’ve had to push myself just to be in photos with Meave on my phone; photographs that don’t even see the light of day, but ones I know I’ll cringe at when I go through them.
While thinking about the last time I was in a true photograph, I remembered that I had a tradition of taking birthday self-portraits every year. I loved to see my emotional growth through photographs. It was a way of documenting the feeling of the past year. It was a celebration.
When Maeve was born I stopped.
It’s really hard to read that back. “When Maeve was born I stopped.”
At first it was just because I was all consumed with motherhood and keeping her alive. The thought of taking photographs of myself was so far from my reality.
This past April I didn’t because of my skin. My closest friend tried to push me, but I still didn’t take them.
The worst part is that I didn’t forget, but rather I thought really hard about it and decided not to.
What I was telling myself is, “I’m not worthy”.
I spend so much of my life helping others feel worthy and yet, it feels impossible to give that to myself.
I’ve missed out on networking events, time with friends and family, and celebrations because of how I look.
I’ve caught myself saying, “I look like a monster” in front of my 2 year old.
I don’t want to feel this way anymore and I know that I’m the only one who can change it.
It’s what we always say before deciding to have our photographs taken…”I just need to lose a few pounds” or “When my hair grows out”, or any other lie we tell ourselves which are all a way of saying, “I’m not worth of being celebrated.”
I will be 41 in April and damnit, that’s worth celebrating. I work with other women who leave our experience together feeling excited to be alive and damnit, that’s worth celebrating. I am raising a powerhouse of a child and damnit, that’s worth celebrating. Outside of what I do for others, and being a mom, I’m worth documenting and celebrating because I exist.
If you’re feeling like you need to change something about yourself in order to be worthy, I hope you’ll stop telling yourself the lies.
You’re worthy right where you stand.
I’m sharing some of my favorite self-portraits from years past. I will be making a post come April of 2024 with my updated ones. I’M WORTHY OF CELEBRATING.
