Today someone commented on the pictures of my son I keep in my office. I thanked them graciously but I didn't give them a business card.
Last summer my mother and I took a little weekend trip to the Santa Fe area to visit a friend of hers from high school. More than once this friend introduced me as a photographer. "No, no," I'd say, "I'm not REALLY a photographer. I just enjoy taking photographs."
Again and again I seem to push this title away. I just can't quite claim it, can't embrace it. I know this isn't an unusual phenomenon for me. I feel the same way about my writing and my poetry. I'm not REALLY a writer or a poet. I'm a girl who likes words...just like I'm a girl who enjoys trying to capture the poetry of life through photographs. I know I'm not different from many of you reading this. There are many brilliant poets participating in Poetry Thursday who would never dream of actually calling themselves a poet. There are many inspiring writers contributing to Sunday Scribblings who wouldn't dare call themselves a writer. We seem to be in this boat together.
I have this idea in my head that being a photographer (or a writer, or a poet) looks and feels a certain way..that there are stipulations that must be met before I can claim that title for myself. I've got to have a degree or more education. I have to make my living form it. I have to be published. And the list goes on. Other people are writers, poets, photographers but I'm not. And even when I've met the same criteria as they I still can't seem to embrace it. So what does a photographer look like? What does being a photographer feel like? I don't know...I just know that most of the time it doesn't feel like me.
Ouch! As soon as I typed those words some emotions shot to the surface like a wild geyser. What I lack is feeling good enough. I'm struggling to call myself a photographer because I'm struggling to accept that I'm a good enough photographer. And that is the truth of it...and that truth packs a punch...an emotional punch I'm not sure I'm ready to sit with. I can't find the grace to call myself a photographer because I can't find the grace to accept that I'm good enough.
Years ago I was discussing this very same issue with a friend but at that time it was in regards to my writing. I was struggling to call myself a writer. I was just someone who loved words, loved playing with them, loved discovering new ones, loved keeping them neatly recorded in lined composition books (this was before my days of blogging.) He looked at me and asked, "You know what makes a writer a writer?" "No," I answered, a hint of eagerness in my tone because I knew he was about to hand me the answer to all my struggles. He picked up a pen and a pad of sticky notes, quickly jotted something down, and then handed me the sticky note. It had two simple words on it: Writers write.
I have to admit I was a tad bit disappointed. What? That's it? It's as simple as that? Those two words did nothing to alleviate my struggle although I did tuck the sticky note in my pocket to later pin to a bulletin board. It felt like there was some kind of lesson in those two words and I wanted to hold on to that sticky note until the lesson sunk in.... It hasn't sunk in yet.
Maybe it is that simple. Maybe a big part of it all is the simple act of doing. But I can't help but think there is another aspect--an emotional aspect--and that aspect is far more complicated than the doing. That aspect deals with the feelings we've accumulated about ourselves and our worth. That aspect deals with all the 'not good enough's...and that can be icky, icky stuff to work your way through. And that's were I'm at my friends...working my way through the ickiness...struggling to see and believe...struggling to claim and embrace...struggling to accept that I'm good enough.
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