There’s another creative endeavor I recently found called Self-Portrait Tuesday. Each month has a theme, and each week participants explore the theme using portraits they took of themselves. The theme for November is exploration of identity. Below is a photo I took as I played at modeling a scarf I made last night. This photo was the best of the bunch.
As I looked at the photo, I was uncomfortable with what I saw. And the thing is, it’s all superficial and I know better. I mean, I was trained to be a psychotherapist, I did years of my own therapy, I understand my value is not based in externals. What kind of example am I?
But we are all our own critics, I suppose. When I look at this photo, I see a woman whose skin is beginning to show less resilience and freshness. I see the double chin forming, the face rounding out. I’m not in the best of shape and am significantly over what is considered a healthy weight. This became the case in 1999/2000, and I’ve not met with success in reducing it significantly or maintaining loss. Motivation is a factor, but so is age. My metabolism simply doesn’t burn as strongly. I am aging. We all are, but there comes a point when what’s inside, how one feels, begins to contradict what one sees in the mirror. This is the beginning of mortality consciousness on a new level.
Continuing to look at the photo, I see a slightly shy gaze peering back. The eyes are kind, inquisitive, and perhaps a tad mischievous. In childhood, you would have found a photo of me next to the word “hyper-sensitive” in the dictionary. I probably would have appeared next to “shy” and “crybaby” too. Later you’d find me next to “introvert” and probably still would. I’m not a commanding presence. I don’t seize attention, never felt comfortable flirting or showing off my body or using my sexuality overtly. For years I was guarded against in-person relationships with men. One of my most intimate relationships was conducted over ten years in letters to a man I never laid eyes on. I am a discovery that only those with open eyes find. I don’t look like much on the outside, but there’s a mother-lode of interesting goodness inside.
That’s why Internet publishing such as blogging is one of my favorite hobbies. This type of writing has connected me to others of similar interests, yet whose dispositions toward introversion would have meant we never met. And I get to “display my wares” to an audience of kindred spirits. As I look at the woman in this photo, I am curious as to what awaits in her future. At mid-life I am getting a little long in the tooth to become a mother, but we shall see. I’m also getting to an age where it will be harder to convince employers to hire me, something that increases sharply when one hits 50 and up. (Read Ronni Bennett’s blog if you are dubious.) And yet I have reached an age where my willingness to explore is less hindered by fear. I feel more accepting of my flaws and mistakes. I don’t feel a need to apologize for my existence anymore. I am full of experiences and have something to say to the world, some measure of aliveness to offer. People drop in, take what they want or need, and go on their way. I like this — my virtual personal café. And really, what more can a person ask for than a venue to offer her talents to the world? We are all seeking meaning and significance; we’d like to be remembered forever, but obscurity is the destiny of all but a few. Right now, right here, though, I’m making an impact. I hope it’s a good one; I strive for that.
