my stories

When you read this, I will be in the hospital

It's a little bit bizarre to pick right now, this moment when I know my life is going to be turned upside down (again) to decide that this is the right moment to unlock myself, to claim my space in the creative universe and say:

I make things that bring me joy.
Things that I am proud of.
I want to share them with You.


There is only now. And now—as a surgeon takes the fibers and cells of what was once a functioning abdominal wall, but no longer is, and uses all the powers of science, the magic of faith, and infuses it with his hundreds of hours of training, and imbues it with his years of experience to repair what is broken—yes, now, is the time to stand.

I have tried for years to apologize for my existence. I have tried to say what I Am Not: 

  • I am not a Writer, I just have a BA in English (and I didn't got to a good school).
  • I am not a Photographer, I just have (had) a photography business.
  • I am not a Designer, I'm just good at Photoshop (but others are better).

Twice, the Universe has come forward and said: this is not the path you should be on. And twice my position has been eliminated and it is effective immediately. The first time, I grieved. I saw everything I had done wrong (instead of all the ways I had been wronged). The second time, I got angry. Very angry. I was wiser this time. I had a child and much more was at stake. I didn't go away quietly. I made sure I was whole.

And, speaking of holes, there are many of them. They line a scar that runs the length of my abdomen. The first half was created when I pushed every part of myself into bringing a child into this world; and when she was out, I forgot to hold something back for myself. I kept giving until almost every ounce of blood had flowed out of me, and only the hands of surgeons and the donated blood of strangers kept me from giving too much. The second half of the scar was created a year ago. When part of my intestines literally tied itself I a knot (symbolism, anyone?).

And those repeated violations, the cutting of the muscles and the suturing, have left things very messy indeed. But they are going to fix it. They are going to try. Complete abdominal reconstruction. It's going to hurt. I know this. I've lived through this pain. In some ways, I was just getting over it.

So why now? Why start creating and sharing now?

Because I've finally listened.

There is a question I'm being asked to answer. I have spent most of my life trying to avoid it. It has been easier to be hidden. It has been easier to do what made logical sense, financial sense,  what was easy-to-achieve, what carried low risk of failure.

Creators must create. Those creations must be shared. And when you share, you might get critiqued. Someone might just say that what I make sucks. I might say I'm going to do something and not follow through.

I might get embarrassed. There is nothing I hate more than the feeling that someone is judging me...

And then my body reminded me for the third time that I will not be around forever. Things break down. Time moves forward. If you're not ready to stand up and show yourself now, when would be a good time? Age 50? 70?

Stop wasting time. It's all you have.

And with that, I welcome you into this space. It's a little place on the internet where I show what I create and how I've created them.

I have worked on a few posts about my primary passion right now, which is telling my family's story through photobooks. But as you can see, I also like to spew 1000 words on the screen. So, there will be some of that, too. That writing, that's creation, too.