Of all the things I expected in life, it wasn’t this. Being widowed at age 37. But here I am. I have lost my beloved husband to the disease of addiction. I wrote this eulogy to honor him and tell his story. Thank you for reading.
Cherished friends and family. I wish so badly we didn’t have to gather today like this. And with that in mind I thank you profusely for showing up. I know funerals aren’t easy. Especially for someone as young, and as special as Will. This is an unthinkable loss. It doesn’t seem real. Why do the best people get taken like this?
I’m River. Will’s wife of nearly five years. I’d like to share a little bit about us, and the time we had. Will and I were best friends. Close confidants. Partners in life. He added so much fun, and wonder, and silliness, and rightness to my life. He was my person. My soulmate. Our relationship was indescribably special.
We met on November 5th, 2017. I was immediately enthralled by this handsome silver fox with kind eyes and such a bright, welcoming, goofy spirit. Saying that we hit it off is a massive understatement. The connection we immediately shared was electric, and soul level, and powerful. There were a lot of things that just fit and made sense. We ‘got’ each other straight away.
We had shared similar childhoods (both homeschooled all twelve years), we worked in similar industries and understood the grind of our individual careers. We had a very similar way of feeling and experiencing the world. And most importantly, we shared the experience of deep involvement in 12-step recovery programs. Him, Alcoholic’s Anonymous. Me, Codependent’s Anonymous. The joke there is that a codependent and an alcoholic are a match made in Hell. Luckily, we had both experienced the lifesaving gift of our programs, and we were both in unbelievable places with our recoveries. So for us, it was Heaven.
Our first date was at this cute little restaurant in Virginia-Highland Atlanta. I let him drive me home after. On my front porch we shyly and sweetly shared our first kiss. After we said goodbye and I shut the door, I sat down on the floor in a stupor, because my brain could not compute. I was like, “Who is that? He is supposed to be in my life.” It’s like I recognized him, without ever having met him before. I floated. I marveled. I could not believe this connection. It was unlike any other experience I have ever had. It sounds so cliché, but I knew. And I knew he knew, too. It was undeniable. We both felt it.
What followed was a total whirlwind, and we became inseparable. We married each other a very controversial two months later. I talked to one of Will’s best recovery friends Joe last week. He told me, “You know, when you and Will first got married, we all thought he’d lost it. He was the king of shortcuts, and we thought that’s what this was. We thought, oh it’ll never last. And then it did.” Yes it did. We knew this relationship was once in a lifetime and we felt it was supposed to last for a lifetime. I just didn’t know it would only be for the rest of his lifetime. I didn’t know he’d leave.
I wish he was here. I miss him so bad. I hurt for him. I know we all do.
We can’t even begin to talk about who Will was without going to the foundation. The souls he loved most in this world. His three children, Neptune, Liam, and Killian. They’re home in Florida where they live with their mother, but last week at the hometown funeral, this is what I said to the children:
Kids, he talked about you all the time. He wanted to be with you all the time. He would turn to me sometimes and just go, “I miss my kids.” He was proud of you, no matter what. He believed in you, he delighted in you, he loved to make you smile and laugh. He was always bragging about you, thinking about you. Crying when it had been too long. Worried about you. Wanting the best for you. The four of us will always have such special memories together. I hope you know how much I love you too. I’ll be here for you however I can be for the rest of my life. Even though Dad is not here on earth anymore, I wanna let you know, you can talk to him out loud or in your head any time. So can any and all of us. His spirit is with us, how could it not be? I’ve been talking to him a lot.
I’m now going to share some words on behalf of the kids about their Daddy.
Killian says his favorite memory of his dad was when he bashed his head on the stairs at the aquarium and his dad rescued him. Killian, Dad thought you were just the coolest guy, and he loved your silly laugh and your big big smile and your fun, goofy personality. He said you were hilarious, and adorable, and so cool. He loves you soooo much.
Liam shared that he just loved spending time with his Dad. Liam, I know you did, and wow, he loved it too. I remember watching the two of you just cuddle up like two little kitty cats and snuggle. He always said you were so smart, and thoughtful, and talented. He loves you sooo much.
Some favorite memories Neptune has of dad are playing Roblox together, driving around the cul-de-sac or down to the gas station when Neptune was just a little tyke. Going to Panavision that one time and seeing the kind of work dad did!
Neptune, I saw a special and powerful connection between you and your father. You two understood each other in a way that will forever exist. Dad was intensely proud of you in every last way. He couldn’t believe how artistically talented you are, or how sweet. How kind. How loving, and strong. He loves you soooo much.
Will was a proud and adoring dad. Watching him with his kids was special. He was gentle, caring, and so affectionate with them. He loved to see them happy, and healthy. All he ever wanted was for them to treat others well and be kind. That to him was their ultimate success.
Besides being a devoted, loving, adoring father to his children, Will was friendly. Kind. Caring. Funny. He used to make me laugh until my stomach hurt with his funny little observations, his quirks, his fun-loving sense of moving through the world. His brother Jeremy said he always loved how Will could tell a story of a thousand words all with facial expressions alone.
Will’s sense of humor was very unique. His favorite thing to talk and joke about was farting and poop and butts. One time, he put the following event into our shared calendar: “Sit near River and quietly fart all day.” He had a way of making every day feel special and fun.
We liked to prank each other. Play hide and seek from each other at randomly chosen times. He would make Alexa play fart sounds through our house or he’d paste song lyrics or famous lines of dialogue into the announcement system to make me laugh. For payback, I’d hack his Bluetooth speaker and play Nickelback – the bane of his existence. We laughed a lot. We loved to spend time in nature, ride our bikes, relax at home, play with our dogs, take the kids fun places, and endlessly repeat all of our very obscure inside jokes to each other.
Besides being hilarious and fun, Will was hard working. You must to be Local 600. Camera crew hours are long and brutal. The working conditions are intense. He was frequently over exhausted and dehydrated. He got heat exhaustion quite a few times, and heat rashes, sweat rashes, ear infections from the ear piece crew has to wear, cracked fingers from film loading, messed up shoulders and a neck that bothered him a lot. He didn’t really ever complain. He had one of the best attitudes of anyone I’ve ever met. Sometimes he only had six hours between leaving set and needing to be back. Watching him operate on fumes both inspired and worried me. The industry must change. I knew it then, and I know it now. But more on that later.
Will also had an intriguing spiritual side. He was someone who had decided that he saw truth in many paths, and he often said to me, “I have no business deciding who God is or isn’t.” I found his openness and flexibility admirable and fascinating. He meditated, he read about Taoism, he expressed interest in Buddhism. All while also often telling me, “my higher power is Madea!” Go figure.
There’s no one like him in the world.
At his core of cores, Will was a highly principled man with the most humility and gentleness I’ve ever met. He cared so genuinely about everyone he ever met, and about his communities: film, recovery, and Atlanta, a city he has deep roots in. I’d like to list some of his endeavors and accomplishments now. This is only a drop in the bucket, because I only knew him for about five years, and people keep coming out of the woodwork telling me what he did for them in large and small ways. Will was an expert at leaving an impression, even if you only met him once. People who have never met Will could see how amazing he was through photos and videos alone. I have a feeling the list is endless of how awesome he was. So anyway, here’s a few of the things I had the privilege to see.
He took newbies under his wing, both in recovery and the film industry. He had a heart for being of service and helping others. Will bought a lawnmower for a drifter in our neighborhood to empower him to earn money doing lawncare. He looked out for women on set, because he understood that there’s still a lot of sexism at play there. He genuinely wanted to protect others. We attended rights marches for all beings, humans and animals alike. We took part in many peaceful protests in Atlanta, advocating for equality, justice, human rights, animal rights too.
He recently registered as a volunteer poll worker because he was passionate about voting and voter’s rights. He was a volunteer greeter during the thousand-attending-plus AA Regional Round-Up this year. He chaired AA meetings. He volunteered in an animal rescue with me where we had to extract a couple-hundred pound pig—that was interesting. He shielded a lady and her child from being struck by a car during the height of 2020, with his bike and his body. Without a thought. He was anti-racism, anti-fascism and very outspoken about both. Over the summer at Black Bear Lodge, which is where he got treatment this year, he was calling out racist treatment and comments aimed at a non-white woman on campus – he got in some trouble for it and didn’t mind at all. When in his wise mind, he was always ready to act according to what he thought was right.
At his Florida service, the pastor who knew him as a child mentioned a story about how while playing in the fellowship hall, a young Will knocked over some of the folded tables, killing a lizard. Will cried about the lizard’s death, because he felt compassion for this tiny creature. In 2019, he went vegan shortly after I did, because he connected back to that same mindset he had as a young boy: a deep love for animals, paired with the realization that eating them was paying for their deaths. He rejected this idea and said never again.
Will is an everyday hero. All these seemingly small daily things he did over the years add up into a legendary person. Who I wish to every power that exists was still here with us.
He had the funniest stories. Like, the time Shaq wouldn’t stop tickling him. The time he and Ryan Gosling reached for the same food item across a table during craft service on set. Will said their eyes met and he wanted to giggle. He told me about how Nicole Kidman said he had beautiful eyes. I agree Nicole. He has all these stories about hanging out with Ludacris’ dad, running with the Ying Yang Twins and East Side Boyz. He told me about Norman Reedus bumming a smoke from him, Zoe Saldana complimenting his socks. The socks with his kids faces on them, by the way. He felt a lot of pride for all the things he was accomplishing and working for. There was his visit to the Kennedy Space Center launch pad for the film First Man, the months spent on Walking Dead Season 10… what a cool, wild, beautiful life that was cut too short.
We have lost an invaluable treasure. The sweetest man. The kindest soul. The most forgiving, compassionate, silly, inventive, nerdy, adorable, giving, loving, steadfast, fun person. I still can’t believe it. How can this be? My heart can’t comprehend it. I’ve never felt pain like this before.
I’d like to read you a condensed excerpt from my wedding vows from January 5th, 2018 because I feel like they can explain my love for Will better than anything.
“Will. Meeting you was like coming home after a long, long time away. We belong together. I don’t know a lot of things, but I know that. I believe that our entire lives have been bringing us to this place. The place where we’re together – finally.
I promise to always love and respect you as an equal, to always stay awake and teachable through life, to always try my best. To not lead ahead or follow behind, but hold your hand beside you as we walk through life.
I promise to remain considerate, present, and open even when it’s hard.
I promise to love Neptune, Liam, and Killian and be a trustworthy, loving presence in their lives for all the years to come. [I can still keep that promise.]
Will, you are my best friend and safest haven. I am forever thankful that we found each other – not too soon, and not too late. I love you, and the words don’t seem enough, so I’ll spend the rest of my life showing you every day. You’re my favorite. You’re my one in a million, soulmate, love of my life, no looking back, no one else will do. I feel like part of my soul has loved you since the beginning of everything. I’ll love you until the end of everything too.” [And that part still stands.]
Our love and bond stayed like that. We were just annoyingly in love and happy – yes, there were challenges, we had arguments, there were hurdles to overcome—but unlike every other relationship I’d ever had, we found our way through and it was easy. It made sense. He was so gentle with my flaws and issues, he met me where I was, he never demanded anything from me ever. I loved pouring affection and love into his life. I left him little notes of thanks for how hard he worked, I surprised him with a visit from the kids one father’s day weekend, I had his back in every situation possible. We were bonded, and close, and friends, and lovers, all at the same time. We were solid. Until somewhere maybe halfway through 2021.
It is of crucial importance to give you a clear picture of who Will was in what turned out to be the sunset of his life so that you can bear witness and understand what happened. The truth matters, and it is more important than ever that we emphasize clear communication in our society, especially around the broken parts. I hope that hearing a little bit about what went on can bring you some peace and closure. And maybe even hope.
To set the tone and help you understand Will’s heart, I’d like to share a message he wrote about a year ago. The words were: “Unsolicited advice on self-truthfulness: Good or bad, be honest and talk about it. Especially the bad. Talk about the Rhinoceros-Dickrod in the room. In blazing detail.”
You got it, sweetheart. I can do that for you.
I think everyone is well aware that Will had demons he wrestled with for a lifetime. When I met him, he was living in what he affectionately referred to as “the spirit of the universe’s will.” He was balanced, and content, bulletproof. Clean and sober and filled with serenity. Living proof that recovery works. When he told me brutally honest stories about his past, I was amazed that he could be so changed.
Prior to 2021, I had never seen using Will. I had never seen drunk Will. And I can tell you this much: I never did see drunk Will. To my knowledge, he did not touch alcohol ever again after 2016. With how bad it got and the stories I knew of his past, that always stuck out to me. I’m proud of him for that.
Sometime last year, he became depressed and overwhelmed with life. He stopped going to recovery meetings, he didn’t reach out to his sponsor, he started cancelling on his friends and believing the worst of himself. He spoke his resentments loudly, and let himself slip into negativity, powerlessness, self-loathing, and grudges. That serenity that comes with recovery? It slipped away. As this year began, I recognized something was massively wrong with Will, but I guessed it was work stress and exhaustion, life stress, his internal struggles, etcetera. I was covered up in my own intense depression, honestly. 2020 and 2021 were brutal years for both of us, and for people we loved. The happy home we’d shared before wasn’t there like before. Life at home became Chaotic. Dishonest. Traumatic. Hurtful. Sad. Confusing. I withdrew. So did he.
In mid or late May, I discovered he’d been using since at least January. I can’t describe to you the utter helplessness and terror and rage I felt at the lies and how bad it was. I understood that I had to use my recovery like never before, and thanks to the boundaries I held he went to rehab right away – then came right back out because he was so worried about providing for his children and for me. Of course, he slipped right back into using and nearly died, all while I watched helplessly. Thankfully, after a brief hospitalization, he went back in to rehab and stayed in this time.
Briefly, there was a break of sunlight through the clouds. He got clean, and his serenity returned. I visited him a couple weeks prior to his release and I remember seeing the man I loved again and feeling so hopeful. He held my hands, he radiated gratitude and hope and sounded like himself again. He was calm, and relaxed, and his heart was sparkling in his eyes again. I felt cautious and my trust was very broken, but I didn’t let my resentments and fears dictate my choices. I was willing to go through this with him as long as he was working toward his healing. But it wasn’t easy.
While he did his work, I had seen to mine. I had begun to attend Al-Anon and Nar-Anon intensely. Midsummer, I came to believe that a power greater than myself could restore me to sanity. And the day I was able to really believe that, I was given this incredible moment of transformative love where all the intense anger and even hatred I felt just lifted off like fog on a mountain when the sun comes up. I cried as my body and mind were both filled with lightness, and peace, and serenity. I was filled with understanding, and intense compassion for what he and every addict is and was facing. I felt overwhelmed with love and empathy and care for Will. I still feel that.
So many people blame addicts for “choosing” to use substances. It is not that simple, and people must stop using this language to dismiss the disease. I need you to understand how much Will was battling inside. He was not a bad person who just liked drugs and drinking, and wanted to hurt people, and didn’t care. That patently could not be further from the truth. He was a hurting and unhealed human being, who didn’t know how else to cope and had fallen into an uncontrollable inclination toward substance abuse. What he wanted was not always in line with his actions, because he was very sick, his own worst enemy when he let go of his recovery protocols.
I’m about to share something with you that might make you wonder where I’m going with this. Hold tight, stay with me, it’ll make sense in a minute or two.
Will had a relatively new mental health diagnosis he was grappling with. The diagnosis is called DID. Dissociative Identity Disorder. Around the same time he got this diagnosis, the most incredible thing in his life occurred: he identified the root cause of his addiction, which had been in memories his disorder suppressed for thirty plus years. And what did Will do, despite being freaked out by the diagnosis? He faced it all head on. I was so proud of him, because as someone who’s been in a lot of therapy and definitely needs a lot more, I know personally how hard it is to fix yourself and be honest with yourself. But not impossible. I knew he was gonna recover. And he would have. I know he would have.
Let me briefly help you understand what DID is, because I really think it may help some things make sense to you about Will.
Dissociative identity disorder is characterized by a person’s identity fragmenting into two or more distinct personality states. Dissociation is a break in how your mind handles information. You may feel disconnected from your thoughts, feelings, memories, and surroundings. It can affect your sense of identity and your perception of time. The disorder is accompanied by amnesiac memory gaps more severe than could be explained by ordinary forgetfulness. Other conditions that often occur in people with DID include PTSD, personality disorders (especially borderline and avoidant), depression, substance use disorders, conversion disorder, somatic symptom disorder, eating disorders, obsessive–compulsive disorder, and sleep disorders.
I lived with Will. I saw many of the things he tried to hide from the world. I can tell you that he experienced elements from every single secondary disorder I just listed. As things degraded with his recovery, he had these fugue state disassociations of various types where I did not recognize him, he would not listen or respond like himself, he acted in truly bizarre and scary ways. Later, he wouldn’t remember it, or he would only remembered scattered bits. He hated this, it scared him, but he was set on tackling it.
I want you to think seriously about if you had all these horrific problems plaguing you day and night, never leaving you alone. I want you to exercise that empathy muscle and understand that Will was brave. And strong. So strong. Enduring more than most knew. I cannot imagine. I am proud of him for trying again and again and again.
These are recovery chips from Will’s journey. There’s about sixty here, and I know I’m going to find more as I keep going through his things. They mark every time he began, every milestone he achieved, and every time he restarted yet again. This is not failure. This is picking back up and giving it another try. That takes a metric ton of grit, and humility, and willingness, not to mention setting the ego aside, which is one of the most difficult things a human can do. I come from a background of learned helplessness, extreme anxiety, and all-or-nothing thinking. My ingrained first instinct is to give up and run away. I admire the dogged courage Will had. I hope to embody it.
He wanted to change. For his kids, for his marriage to me, and this was new in 2021: for himself. Really and truly this time. I saw it. I felt the shift beginning to happen, even in the madness of the chaos and his intensifying cravings. He was really beginning to tiptoe into valuing himself. Into being his own friend. Into digging deep and finding his truest self and claiming his power by healing his past. But the call of addiction and the situation he’d put himself into was dire. And he couldn’t stop himself from turning to what I guess was the only thing that could gave him some momentary feeling of peace in his chaos.
Drugs and substance and addiction of any kind will never bring anyone truepeace. Look at where we are today. This is our worst nightmare. If you’re in recovery or need to be, I charge you today to stop avoiding recovery and thinking you’ve got this. That’s what Will said and thought when he was in his unwise mind.
After moving back into our home at the end of August, Will came to me in late September and told me he’d relapsed again. I was equally impressed at his honesty and gutted to hear this. I wanted to see him okay, and happy, no matter what. We mutually determined over the next few days that we needed to heal individually.
We separated a few days before his passing. The last time I saw him, we communicated that we loved each other even though we were both so sad and unsure. He told me he was going to get better, he was going to make his kids proud, he was going to love me the rest of his life even if I decided to leave. I had never decided that, I only needed him to get away from me and stop subjecting me to hell, so that we could both heal. In our living room, he grabbed my face real tight and kissed me hard and strong, like he was gathering bravery. I hugged him. I told him to please be safe. I watched him walk off the porch into the night. And that’s the last time I saw him.
Our last messages to each other, Wednesday evening the day before he passed, said ‘I love you’ and ‘I love you too.’
Thursday, the day he died, I sent him a quote I know now I sent a few hours after his death. The quote said, “Before you pass judgment on someone who’s self-destructing, it’s important to remember that they usually aren’t trying to destroy themselves—they’re trying to destroy something inside of them that doesn’t belong.”
Will was so, so wonderful. And he also put some of us through absolutely indescribable hell.There is so much duality to this situation. I hate this disease.
Will died of an accidental overdose out in public. Two and a half miles from our house. I don’t see a reason to conceal the truth about his manner of death. Secrecy keeps us sick. And I want us well. No one should have to go through what I’m going through. What Will went through. What the family is going through. What his beautiful kids are now facing for the rest of their lives. This changes the rest of our lives forever. I weep for Will daily. He should still be alive. He was so close to true change. I want him back! I know I’m not the only one.
You may feel all kinds of ways right now. Angry, betrayed, shocked, broken, defeated, lost, confused, enraged, depressed, numb, in denial just to name a few. I urge that you choose here with me today, to proceed into the future with your healing held as a firm intention in your mind. It would be so easy to spiral. To get and then stay depressed. To give up, to decide healing is too hard. To let this deteriorate you inside. Will does not want that for you. Or for me. Think about him for a second.
He loved seeing people laughing, and smiling, and having a good time. He loved seeing people recover and transform and win. He understands that you need to process, and feel your feelings, and cry and scream and miss him and whatever else your grief dictates. He welcomes that. But he asks that when we’re ready, we carry on his work, his message, and his legacy. We have to heal so that we can laugh for him. Marvel for him. Discover for him. Love for him. And exist with forgiveness in our hearts. Will—I forgive you! I said these words to him this year. And he cried. Released from some invisible prison he’d put himself in. And I meant it. I still do.
My friend Minna told me something really beautiful I’d like to share. She said, “River, promise me you’ll remember the ending chapter of Will’s life is not the entire book.” And I stand in that. I hope you will too.
I will remember all our times, but especially the good ones, because there truly were so many. We just really had the best time together. There are wonderful memories to go back to. The incredible road trip we took in California. We stayed at this unreal place on a mountaintop in the Carmel forest. We drove with the top down off the Jeep and stood on the cliffs of the Big Sur coast. It was magical. We went to one of my favorite places on earth, Point Reyes National Seashore. The Chimney Rock hike, which is this tall, secluded peninsula that stretches out into the crystal blue pacific. Crows cry and sea lions belch grunts from the shores visible far below the cliffs on either side. The day we went was foggy and mystical. If you ever visit this place, think of us when you go. I felt so close to Will there.
Another adventure we went on was to Las Vegas, where we took another amazing road trip from after spending some time on the strip. We saw Red Rock Canyon and Hoover Dam and Lake Mead and Antelope Canyon and Horseshoe Bend and Sunset Crater Volcano and Bell Rock and The Grand Canyon. Do you want to know what this man said as we stood at the North rim for the first time? “I thought it’d be bigger!” He took that comment back the next day when we took an unforgettable helicopter ride over the canyon.
We took the kids on adventures too, but often separate because our work schedules were always so intense and all over the place. I took the kiddos to Panama City Beach for a fun little getaway. On a tour of the best playgrounds in Atlanta. We got to all go to the Walking Dead set in Senoia and Will and I watched the kids try on zombie masks and squeal delighted horror at all the disgusting, lifelike props in the prop house.
I wish we could make more memories. And you know what? I think we will. Because Will is here, in my heart. He’s part of me. I have our wedding date tattooed on my body. It’s staying put. Because so is he.
In his vows to me on that day we married, one line stands out to me now more than ever: “River, you have my life now. You have my spirit. You have my heartbeats, all of them. Forever.” I’m lingering on where he told me I have his spirit. I feel it. He’s giving me strength. I’ll take good care of him. Like I always did.
One of Will’s most deeply held life purposes was Carrying the Message of recovery. His life and his death will continue to Carry the Message. And so will I, in his name. I will speak his truth, I will carry him gently, and I will be here for any of you for the rest of my life, to talk to you about Will, gladly. Whether you want to cuss him out, or cry for him. I understand both, and I’m with you. You can count on that. None of us have to face this alone. Speak to me about Will without worries about upsetting me or making me sad. I am not afraid of my emotions, or of yours. You can talk to me any time. And I hope you will.
Will inspired me. He believed in me. He believed in so many of us. So here is my promise today: I will go on. I will be his champion. I will speak his name, and carry his message, and love him until the day I die too. I will maintain my recovery, I will help others in theirs. For him. For me too. It won’t be easy. I hope you’ll join me in the very brave work ahead we all must do. Hold this in your mind: Love does not end. It goes on. It expands, and takes new forms, it evolves. Love survives.
I have a few things to ask you to do to honor Will.
One. Work on and maintain your recovery. Whatever that means to you, don’t get complacent. Please don’t do what Will did and isolate out of the belief that no one wants you around. We want you here! We want your healing! You are worthy!
Two. Following off number one, if you’re not in recovery and know that you want to be, please reach out and I’m more than happy to share my story of recovery, and help you find resources. Please believe me when I’m telling you the following things saved my life and changed who I am as a person: working the steps of Codependent’s Anonymous, doing therapy when I could afford it, and taking myself through CBT and reparenting therapy — which I mostly did on my own by the way because I was so broke. Healing is possible. Change is possible. And it always starts with you.
Three. If you’re in the film industry and you believe the working conditions or provisions around mental health need to change, contact me. We have work to do.
Four. Welcome the playful side of yourself into the room more often. Your humble side. Know it’s okay to laugh, even when you’re sad.
Five. Will would love it if you’d eat more plant-based meals in his honor, or even consider going vegan. He’d really get a kick out of that.
Six. Tell your people you love them. Even when you are angry and hurt. You never know when it’s the last time you’ll see someone.
Will loved you all, in small or large part. He wanted and wants your peace. He wants your healing. He wants you all to learn to be a friend to yourself. To practice self-compassion. To be gentle with yourself, especially right now.
Hold these final words in your heart. Know that this is what Will wants for us.
May You be filled with lovingkindness.
May You be well.
May You be peaceful and at ease.
May You be joyful.
May You be appreciative and thankful.
May You be in your body filled with truth.
May You be safe and sustained.
May You be blessed.
May You see the sun shine again.
God— Grant us the ability to accept the things we cannot change. The courage to change the things we can. And the wisdom to know the difference.
May you rest peacefully, my sweet boy and beautiful man. I’ll miss and mourn you forever. Watch over me and guide me, as I learn to move with your unfathomable loss. I will make you proud. You made me proud, too.
I first heard of this situation via a family member’s instagram story, and quickly after on Facebook/Twitter. Bethel Church, a mammoth on the Christian scene widely known for their popular worship music, has suffered a terrible and shocking loss. Olive Heiligenthal, toddler daughter of worship leaders Andrew and Kalley Heiligenthal, passed away on December 14th. After her death, the church and many others of faith around the world chose to band together in nonstop prayer and worship services. You can see a bit of what Bethel in Redding, California (home church of the family) was doing here. As of today, the church says they are ending their prayer efforts and moving towards a memorial service.
Before you hear my thoughts on all this, here’s the context: I’m an ex-Christian turned atheist, I get creepy vibes from Bethel as a whole, and my first reaction when I read about this while it was happening was horror why a general “why the hell would reasonable adults do this?!”
BUT. As an ex-evangelical who used to lead children’s worship with a very passionate heart for what I believed in at the time… I can understand and empathize. I have to remove my initial judgment of “WEIRD CHRISTIANS” and take it back to “THINKING FEELING HUMAN BEING LIKE ME” because like most everyone else out there, judging comes easiest. So instead of slapping the whole thing with a label to make it more soulless and therefore easier to point a finger at, I remember my own mindset as a Christian, I remember my own convictions and beliefs, and… then, I get it. When you believe that strongly, you act accordingly. There is no other truth in that moment. Now from the outside looking in, even though I was initially quite aghast at this news, I also recognized this was not my place to decide how someone grieves a death. I think many of us need to evaluate our readiness to declare “this is how it should be,” especially in situations of loss and grief.
I’ve seen some people poking fun at the Heiligenthal family or judging WAY hard or feeling entitled to comment in very personal and hurtful ways (secular folks and religious alike). Well, shame on you. These are human beings in pain. Misguided and not making rational decisions in a time of immense and terrible grief? Yeah… that’s about right. And all of us do it, just in different ways. Difference is here the limelight is so damaging – bringing this tragedy to a forefront when it would be a private unheard of thing if not for the news reports/the Bethel church association. Folks who are spectators to situations like these always think their opinions of others are so precious and special but they’re missing the point… that opinions aren’t needed or helpful in many situations. So why even say anything? Where’s your heart?
“But River! They involved thousands of people in this sham, they started a shady gofundme, they’re a cult!”
Yes, being famous within their community meant that they leaned on the support system of parishioners and followers all over the globe in a time of absolutely terrible loss. These folks believe in something I don’t, and strongly too. They followed those beliefs. Anyone who joined in the prayers or movement did so of their own choice. Not my place to be angry that others believed a child come come back from the dead, they didn’t tell ME to pray and believe for Olive’s return. I am definitely sad about the movement and kind of defeated feeling about the whole thing, sure. A little frightened of people who think magically like that – I’ll admit the answer is yes there too (even though I was one who would have believed this years ago!). To me it doesn’t seem rational or realistic to believe a dead person or animal can come back to life days after they no longer are alive, and I see no evidence of miracles in the world. But right now is not the time to try and point that out to these folks. And anyway whose mind was ever changed by being yelled at in a tweet? Respect is so much more valuable than ego.
Trust me, I have questions. Why THIS child, Bethel? Why aren’t you on your knees in tears over the children dying day in and out of starvations and preventable diseases? The children sold into sex trafficking? The children in foster care without loving homes and families? It’s because we are human, and they love/were most attached to their own child as we all would be. They want her back. So understandable. So heartbreaking. Again I get it. Does it seem hypocritical? Maybe a little. But again, they lost their daughter. Their world stopped and ended and went upside down. Reason and all that goes out the window in the face of hurt.
Regarding the GoFundMe, I personally wouldn’t donate to it. End of story, no other comment to be made other than again… people who want to, can. There are worse and better things out there in the world to donate to.
They’re a cult? Maybe. Keep in mind: most cults have the following in common: a few “bad guys” in the CEO office who are preying on people and seeking power, lots of “real people” following along trying to be part of something wonderful and fill a hole or fix a feeling. I can’t look at the entire group and invalidate them because “they’re a cult.” That is very close to dismissing addicts or alcoholics as “bad people” instead of understanding the underlying issue of mental illness and disease. Most people are just trying to live a life that feels okay to them and that lines up with their values, beliefs, and culture. Bethel parishioners included.
Still, I’ve watched a lot of folks bickering in posts and making very bold, hurtful statements aimed at the family, the church, at the the mother and the father of this little girl. I don’t know why it’s SO easy to demonize and dehumanize people if they don’t believe/act/live as you do, but man… human beings are really good at that shit aren’t they? Either way NONE of ya’ll need to forget: harsh opinions don’t help right now… love and kindness do. And we can ALL surely find love and kindness in our heart, regardless of holy books or not. I am more interested in finding common ground than reasons to divide and separate.
I am a human. So are you. We have similar eyes, religion or not.
I see a MOTHER who is grieving the loss of her child the only way she can at the moment with the only tools/mindset she currently has. This will affect her forever, this will shape her mind and thinking patterns for all the rest of her life. I do not envy her. I only wish her healing and love and strength for all she has to go through in the coming years. I am so, so sorry for the pain she is enduring right now.
I see a FATHER who is only human and who has been told he is to lead his family biblically. He will really struggle with this for years to come. This will affect him forever. I really hope he doesn’t try to just shoulder it and move on – he is a human being like the rest of us. I hope he gives himself permission to be less than perfect with all the answers and seek out help for the grief and pressure on him.
I see a FAMILY that is broken apart from what it was. I am so sad for the older child who is now left as an only child – I can’t even imagine. I hope grief counseling and therapy are something the entire family will pursue. Yes… there is a tough road ahead made even tougher by the initial refusal to accept reality. Like I said, I get it. But man, does it suck. For almost a week the family prayed and begged for a life to be restored. They had thousands of people all over the world also on board with this – do you know how gutting it is believing something so hard then not seeing it happen? It’s huge and it’s hard. Trust me – personal experience. My personal experience ended up with me questioning God/the bible/my faith and eventually walking away to a new road. I don’t know what the Heiligenthal family has ahead of them, I only know that this will be a challenging journey.
The pressure and expectations put on Andrew and Kalley by their religious base will be SO difficult to navigate – I can’t even begin to imagine how hard. As I said before, I do NOT ENVY THEM for a second. I can’t and won’t judge them either. I can only shake my head and say I am so sorry, and I hope for healing and peace as they walk this road of life that has suddenly changed so very much.
We will never know our own response to a situation like this until it actually happens to us – and I hope as few of you as possible ever have to face this.
This year it took a young lady named Greta to give me a pretty big wake up call. The kind that says, “yeah River we know you’ve been halfheartedly recycling and trying to sometimes use your reusable shopping bags – but that’s not enough. And it’s time to change.” Inspired to do my part better and be more responsible for all the junk I put out into the environment, I made a lot of big changes to jumpstart a new way of life – a way that considers the impact my consumption is creating, and does whatever possible to eliminate needless waste and choose more eco friendly options.
WHY? Well…
Reports show that Americans generate between 250 and 400 million tons of garbage each year–all of which requires landfill space.
The amount of waste generated has tripled since 1960.
Only around 1/10 of solid garbage in the United States is recycled each year.
Each year around 100.2 billion plastic bags are used by Americans.
In the Pacific Ocean, there is a “Plastic Island” twice the size of Texas that was created by dumping waste into the ocean.
This is a time of crisis where EACH AND EVERY one of us needs to realize our agency in this situation and then act accordingly. Huge change is effected by millions of “just one” person. When we collectively choose new paths, that will have impact!
That being said, I wanted to share the swaps and upgrades I’ve settled on in the past couple months with ya’ll in the hopes maybe you will join me if you haven’t already! Also feel free to chime in via the comments on things I missed or other alternatives you’ve found. I’d love to hear. I’m going to keep working on finding the best possible way to live low waste, maybe even eventually zero waste! Let’s go!
IN THE BATHROOM
Cotton Pads to Replace Cotton Balls/Pads I don’t know how many pieces of cotton I’ve used once and discarded for makeup removal/toning but that’s officially over with thanks to these washable and reusable cotton rounds.
Makeup Eraser This little magical guy eliminates the need for face wipes AND makeup removing facewash/solution, PERIOD! I was shocked the first time I used it – even waterproof mascara comes off with a few gentle rubs with this fluffy contraption! It lasts 3-5 years and is washable, great for travel, gentle, etc. I will say since it’s so absorbent, it needs to be washed often so get a set of several you can cycle through, and wash them with other towels, preferably with a bit of baking soda sprinkled in to keep it fresh.
Shampoo Bars
Me AND my dogs are no longer using shampoo out of a bottle. I use Love Beauty and Planet brand which I pick up at Target, and the doggos have a bar by Ethique. I’m still looking for a plastic-free conditioner option – I need a solid handful of product to get all my thick hair conditioned right and the conditioner bars don’t work for me.
Toilet Paper Upgrade! I signed up for recycled paper toilet paper at Who Gives a Crap – a subscription service you can tailor to deliver every few months (the more months between orders the better!) with no plastic packaging that brings recycled paper (rather than new trees) straight to your door and donates 50% of profits to build toilets where they’re needed most. Also yes, it’s affordable af! Get $10 off your first order with this link.
Bamboo Toothbrushes
Rather than send our toothbrushes with the other BILLION toothbrushes thrown away per year in the US alone, we now use bamboo and coconut bristle toothbrushes that decompose/compost rather than stay put for four hundred years plus.
Toothpaste Tablets/Truthpaste
Still currently deciding between toothpaste tablets and Truthpaste, and sampling both. Both come in refillable/reusable glass jars. Either one is better than a toothpaste in a plastic tube! Here’s a good article on zero waste brushing with both these options and more, including toothfloss which is one of my next changes I’ll be making! PS there are also mouthwash tablets out there too.
Face Cleansing Bar
Bye to face washes in plastic containers, hello to Lush’s line of face cleansing bars/balms. You can also find other similar bars on Etsy and other online retailers.
Electric Razor
I’m now using my rechargable razor 80-90% of the time instead of shaving while showering w/ disposables.
IN THE KITCHEN
Zero Waste Laundry/Dishwashing Tablets
Instead of plastic jugs of detergent, softener, and dishwashing liquid, I’m now subscribed to Dropps which is this great service that sends out pods in zero plastic packaging – plus it’s all vegan – and yes it cleans my dishes/clothes just like my old stuff did! I store my pods in glass jars/vases so it’s also kind of beautiful to look at, haha. Here’s a $20 off subscriptions for you to use! (I’m also reading up on how to make my own fabric softener at home too which would be one less item to buy/ship!)
Goodbye Paper Towels
I have some reusable/washable bamboo towels and I’m using my dishtowels/microfiber clothes to clean counters and messes – I won’t be buying pre-wet cleaning wipes anymore either. I have a mini laundry basket dedicated to towel/rag laundry only which helps me keep things separated and fresh towels ready at all times!
Reusable Silicon Bags
Ziploc better get on board with reusable because I’m never buying plastic baggies again! I bought a few sets of these reusable storage bags and they are in my freezer, fridge, and even used as snack carriers on the go. Hot tip, don’t wash these in your dishwasher because it’ll mess up the zippers rendering them useless.
Wax Wraps Instead of Aluminum/Plastic Wrap
Plastic wrap has 100% had its last day in this house, and I’ll be buying a dutch oven for recipes that require tin foil wrappings. For storing stuff/wrapping up leftovers, I really like these wax wraps that are washable (cold water only) and can be used again and again. Plus they’re beautiful! Be sure to buy vegan wax to help out our bee friends.
HippoSak Plant-Based Trash Bags These bags are made from sugar-cane instead of fossil fuels. They hold up just like my old GLAD trash bags. For every 1 kg (2.2 lbs) of plant raw material used to create Hippo Sak Plant-Based Tall Kitchen Bags, they reduce CO2 emissions by 2.15 kg and reduce the consumption of fossil fuel by 2 liters! Better alternative to recycled content or traditional trash bags. You can also recycle them: “For those who want to further reduce their plastic waste, they can opt to empty their trash bags (including non-recyclables items) in their exterior trash bins and place the used bag in the recycle bin. This allows you to easily carry your trash out of your home without worry of leak or tear. If you choose not to do this, you are still helping reduce CO2 emissions significantly by using these Hippo Sak Plant Bags because we use sugar cane rather than fossil fuel to make these bags.”
Metal/Silicon Straws
Got a few different sets, including two travel straws to take on the go (they fold down into little a carrier). I have sensitive teeth so drinking most stuff through a straw is a must for me – now I can do it with far less lasting effect and damage.
Reusable Coffee Filter/Loose Leaf Tea Only
I got this coffee filter to replace my old paper ones, and after I use up all my teabags, I’m only buying loose leaf and using metal brew baskets.
Refilling Soaps
I have glass refillable handsoaps and am reusing the same plastic method soap dispenser I’ve had for a couple years now. You can buy refill pouches that have about 75% less plastic in their packaging and will refill your containers 2-4 times!
Bamboo Handle/Coconut Bristle Scrubbers
Sponges are no longer welcome here, and neither are plastic handled plastic bristled scubbers!
LESS PAPER WASTE
I canceled catalogues & junk mail. CatalogChoice is a great service for unsubscribing from many major catalogues all in one place, and I also put my address on the National Do Not Mail List.
I’m saving packaging/wrapping materials to reuse!
I have a little cubby dedicated to shipping/packing/packaging materials that I can reuse for a variety of things instead of buying new materials. Plus I’ve started selling old stuff around the house on eBay and this stash is coming in super handy for that!
I’m choosing not to buy wrapping supplies.
Instead, people who I give gifts to will recieve their gift in a reused bag/box/catalogue/magazine, or in no wrapping at all. PS, I don’t really believe in buying people holiday gifts except my kids and spouse – I like to give a gift at birthdays or spontaneously throughout the year – typically in the form of experiences/dining rather than tangible objects.
No Christmas Cards
I have asked folks not to send me cards, and I haven’t sent out holiday cards ever I don’t think (because I’ve always felt like I didn’t want to add to the waste). While I love the idea of cards, the reality and facts are that the 2.65 billion Christmas cards sold each year in the U.S. could fill a football field 10 stories high. If we each sent one card less, we’d save 50,000 cubic yards of paper. I prefer to give a thoughtful birthday card once per year and do a social media Christmas/Holiday post instead to save on paper, clutter, and waste.
EVERYWHERE ELSE
Reusable Shopping Bags!
I finally achieved this habit this year and use everything from the reusable bags to smaller produce reusable bags too. I’ve even brought the bags to the mall with me – grocery store isn’t the only place you can use these guys after all!
Shopping At Co-Op
I’ve started patronizing one of my local Co-Ops, Sevanandah in Little Five Points. It’s locally owned by its members, and they have bulk bins where you can bring your own containers and fill up on staples like rice, lentils, nuts, etc. They also have some local produce for sale.
Shopping At My Local Farmer’s Market
There’s a little market just .3 miles from my house on one day of the week, right beside the garden the food comes out of!
Repurposing Whatever I Can
The mesh bag my dog’s monthly supply of tennis balls comes in? I realized it makes great reusable produce shopping bags! Once I have enough, I’ll start gifting these to friends. Little boxes like the ones my glasses came in? I can use that as a little shelf organizer in the bathroom closet or spice rack. Glass jar the jelly came in? That can become an earring holder, a loose spice storage container, a little planter etc. Repurpose old candle jars in these creative ways! Honestly the internet is your best friend for getting ideas of how to reuse things.
Being More Mindful About Car Trips
I’m cutting back in my work travel over the state of Georgia and also choosing to plan my days a little better – for example if I’m going to be in the specific area of town where I get my nails done and my grocery store is, I plan one trip there to do both rather than two different times in the week. In time I think I’ll get better and better at this.
Keeping Trash In My Car
…Until I can get home and recycle the parts of it that otherwise would go to a landfill if I just chucked it in a bin at a gas station.
Thrift/Consignment Stores/Antiquing
I want to work on buying next to nothing brand new. This will be a tough one but as someone who has always love thrifting, I think I can get there.
I remember seeing the comment and feeling in rapid succession shocked, hurt, then indignant and angry.
My now-ex husband announced our separation/impending divorce publicly on his social media – like I had too. We were still friends (on social) at the time, so I saw this when his Aunt replied to his post with the following thoughts (not word-for-word, since I don’t remember the exact phrasing):
It’s okay, nephew. Now you can be with someone who will love you right like you deserve and give you babies.
I. Was. Apalled. The audacity. The absurd arrogance of that comment, the absolute ignorance. I resisted the urge to blast out a reply and be a bitch back to her, and I’m still satisfied with that decision to not engage – to just move away from it emotionally and focus on myself, my life, my mental health, my changing reality. But I still was offended, and deeply so. She didn’t know if I was a woman who struggled with fertility or not, she didn’t know if me and my ex husband even WANTED to have children together or at all, she – didn’t – know. So how dare she say something like that? Well, she dared. And I’ve never said much about it until now.
This happened about five years ago but it still crosses my mind sometimes. This woman had been welcoming and kind to me. Was that all fake? How the hell did she think she knew best like that? Posting that publicly was the ultimately Southern “bless your heart” or in layman’s terms: “fuck you very much.” The funny thing is, according to my ex husband at the time, he didn’t want children. Neither did I. End of story, because that decision is a personal and private one to be first decided on at the individual level. I naively thought everyone knew that. But this aunt thought it would be nice to try and get a final jab in at me for that, without knowing a single fact pertaining to the issue. Try to cut me down and make me feel less-than somehow. But it just made me realize that women have to be better allies to each other, and as people, we need to stop thinking we have the full story or know best for another person’s life… even if it’s our niece, nephew, cousin, child, parent. We never have the full information. And assuming we do only shows our foolishness in the end.
This woman had very little idea what we had been through in our almost nine year relationship. Not the conversations we had as a couple about children and family, nor the emotional immaturity we both possessed, nor the growing realization that we weren’t compatible on any level. It’s not something I villanize, it’s something I have no resentments over, only understanding and empathy. The relationship lasted as long as it needed to, it ran its course, and we left it when it was over. We were not what each other wanted or needed, we were not happy or thriving in a shared life together, and so we parted ways which is the sane thing to do. I don’t blame anyone for what happened – it’s just life. It’s a shame that an adult with decades more life than myself at the time decided to try and hurt a young woman who she barely knew.
We have a tendency to project our own feelings and experiences onto others. This only harms us and harms others. This woman’s statement in the end only told me everything I needed to know about her, and I realized said zero to who I am as a person. That’s my growth in this situation, and I only have gratitude for this road of learning and reflection now.
I’ve been writing, rewriting, abandoning, then re-opening this post since early last year. Despite the difficulty writing it, I keep coming back to it because I’ve been reflecting on it for the better part of two years and my soul is insisting that this really wants to be said. So let me try again now.
A bit of context: I work fulltime as a wedding and portrait photographer. I’ve been doing this for ten years full time and have amassed hundreds of clients/jobs/experiences – translation: I’ve learned a whole hell of a lot. It seems pretty obvious, but a lot can happen in a decade both inside and outside of the career aspect. These specific ten years have seen me through some incredible ups and downs, profound life changes, and a successful photography career I never fully anticipated. I’m thankful, reflective, and wondering – what the future holds, where to go from here. You know, the usual suspects.
The more I have worked in therapy and recovery programs, the more I have realized that a very large character loomed in my photographic work for a long time and can still can be a problem if I don’t keep her in check. That character is my ego. Some of this ego is immaturity, some of it is pride and fear and selfishness and insecurity, but it’s still there – even if it has been checked, retrained, given stern looks, and calmed down a lot in recent years, it’s lurking. We all have an ego, and I’ve seen the photography industry bring out the worst in many of us including myself. With this observation made, I’ve been thinking hard about how my ego both past and present affects the way I photograph people and approach my job.
When I first started photographing people for money, a dominant feeling constant in my life everyday was fear. Fear of failure, fear of not being good enough, fear that no one would like my style, fear that I would be perceived as incompetent at my job or not artistic enough, fear that I would not have success financially, fear that I could not afford the costs of doing business, fear of making any mistakes whatsoever, fear of disappointing clients, fear of others not thinking my work was good, fear of looking stupid, fear, fear… fear.
Of course, outwardly, this was not apparent. I overcompensated with an attitude of confidence, of knowing it all, of happiness and enthusiasm and nothing-can-go-wrong. This way of operation was exhausting and dishonest. I would never have been caught dead saying, “I don’t know” – because to me the most horrible thing I could ever do was to admit that I didn’t know everything or wasn’t some endless flow of inspiration and ideas. This behavior was rooted in this insane, neurotic need to prove to people (people who never asked for me to prove anything) that I was this perfect photographer and therefore perfect person too. That obsessive need to prove myself came from my inner insecure egomaniac – a mindset and learned behavior I was helpless over at the time. Man did it wreak some havoc and keep me in some bad states of mind.
For example: I felt under attack when I felt like people were onto how filled with self-doubt I was. Anything would make me feel ambushed or undermined, like when people asked for a pose I didn’t come up with, or suggested a location I hadn’t thought of, or asked me questions about “is the background okay?” or “will I look big if I stand like this?” It automatically caused a flare of negative feelings inside. Didn’t they trust me?! Why would they question me?! Maybe I really do suck at this! Etc, etc. Ego can be a real brat – and in this instance, ego left me unable to bridge the gap between my unhealthy need to feel perfect/good enough/superior, and my very real clients’ feelings, needs, feedback, and desires. My clients were asking simple questions, not telling me I was a horrible person and photographer! But I had a hard time not feeling that way. My focus was too intensely stuck in trying to make sure I felt okay – trying desperately to avoid the truth that I wasn’t perfect.
That is one fragile ass ego, ya’ll. I honestly feel sorry for the person I used to be.
Add to this delicate ego the often toxic community you can stumble into if you join basically any large photographer forum or group. There is this persistent need among the over-saturated masses of photographers to stand out and one-up, but at the same time assimilate, but also to be groundbreaking, to do The Most, to have the prettiest website and prettiest feed with the prettiest clients… to create images that go viral, to be cool and hip and popular and well-traveled and cute and trendy and oh my god even writing this list has me tired. Basically, there’s a lot of fame within the photography world and it can be tempting to try and become one of The Best And Most Famous. I’m a little on the fence here… I think it’s awesome to aspire to be great at what you do, but when you aspire to be great in order to feel better about yourself/get validation that’s a recipe for pain and arrogance. Trying to be The Best can distract from the most important thing a photographer does (in my opinion) which is connect with our clients and create excellent, meaningful images for them – not the internet, not social media. The hiring client. Equally important is to hear them out if they’re unhappy then work to fix it for them without taking it personally.
I do think that I got lost in the popularity race for awhile. I spent a lot of effort on trying to shoot so that I would have a beautiful instagram (selfish). I didn’t get as excited about more ‘boring’ clients and their weddings because that wouldn’t be fun for me to shoot (lazy). I would roll my eyes at overdone decor/traditions/etc privately, or complain about it to peers/other photographers (petty). There wasn’t enough space or consideration for my clients with this way of conducting myself. Spending time thinking of my taste/approach as superior was a narcissistic waste of time. It created negative energy. It held me back from being present and being kind and serving my customers well. I missed the whole point of it: the people in front of my camera. They are who matter, they are who I need to shoot for and make happy.
In 2014/2015 I experienced huge life shifts – my marriage at the time ended, I came out as no longer religious, I changed my name and my look and began to travel for the first time ever – I decided the hell with fear! And I took life by the horns and let it dash me down in the process. I learned from the pain. I jumped into recovery when I realized I was dysfunctional, and then I came out the other side a different person. Funny enough, when I look back at my work, I see it changing and growing the most 2015 and onward. The photos are more authentic, creative, thoughtful, and real – the things I always wanted it to be – but I had to be those things first. I had to stop letting my ego run everything. It tripped me up, it kept me selfish, it made my sight short. The day I learned how to set ego aside, I was able to step fully into a new path that is more peaceful, more kind, more at ease with myself and the world.
Today I have a lot less opinions about people and their personal choices. I put more emphasis on what I do have appropriate control over: myself and my actions. I now invest the same effort into any and every wedding/session. I don’t complain to myself if I wish a job was prettier/smaller/bigger/more trendy – I approach what exists and work to do the best I can to show that in a beautiful way with no need to make it something it wasn’t. The days of giving someone special treatment because I like their aesthetic/look/personality more are gone. Now I live by the rule of work as hard for every single client.
Like they said in Bill and Ted – be excellent to each other. My work only gets better the more I stick with this mantra and mindset.
I’ll end this post with a few things I remind myself of pretty regularly now. I Am Not a Rockstar
No, I’m not diminishing my talents, feelings, skills, or way of approaching things – but yes, I am learning to set aside those things and make my work about the people I photograph, not me myself and I. These jobs are not about me. These people are not mine, their stories aren’t mine, their weddings aren’t mine. I have to remember my photos could not be possible without these people. I need to keep arrogant pride out of the equation. Gratitude keeps me grounded and lifted at the same time. My Style Isn’t Some Precious Sacred Thing
Yes my voice matters and yes my narrative style is probably why the client hired me, but to approach an event with nothing but “MY VISION” blaring in my mind is a setup for photos that may not honor what’s in front of me. Am I forcing subjects into a mold? Am I honestly portraying people? Am I taking into account that I am biased from my own life experiences and should stay open minded? Am I hearing my subjects’ concerns and insecurities out and photographing with consideration of that? My Opinions Are Not Necessary
Every wedding is special to the people who are having that wedding. My taste/opinions/perspective are irrelevant and even harmful to have when it comes to judging someone else’s choices in style or aesthetic. My job is to show up and treat every single person the same: like the most important person in the world. Their requests are valid and important. I don’t need to have opinions on if the marriage will last or if the centerpieces are cute. Being in the moment is the most beautiful, important thing me and this camera can do. You Are Working With Someone That Is Not You
I’ll say it again! I am working with someone that is not me. Communicate with that other person or persons. Don’t assume to know exactly what they want or are comfortable with or are wishing for during the shoot. Ask questions, hear them out, include them in the creation process. It doesn’t entirely have to be up to me, the photographer, to produce every single part of the shoot or come up with everything myself. Let the people in front of you inform the direction of the session.
Thanks for taking the time to read this! If you have any thoughts or lessons learned similar to mine, I’d love to hear from you in the comments. Now go be excellent to each other, friends. See ya out there.
Today I’ve got something on my mind that I wanted to share on that is super important to me. It was a lesson I had to learn the hard way, and one I think a ton of people struggle with.
My Disney, fairytale romance, idealized view on love and relationships was totally wrong for more than half my life.
The entire time I grew up, I was inundated with messages like the following:
Finding True Love is your life goal.
You’ll never be happy until you find your person – your soulmate – The One.
Romantic love makes us whole, makes us happy.
Your relationship with a significant other matters most in life.
People other than yourself can fix your sadness, loneliness, and insecurities.
If you don’t have a romantic partner, something is wrong with you.
It was a hard lesson to unlearn those false ideals and start the work of creating my own happiness. First I had to realize that those messages were untrue. And then I had to go discover what things were true.
What have I learned through doing The Work?
True love is loving me, treating myself well, doing things for my own health and wellbeing. True love is respecting others and allowing a romantic interest into your life who will add to your wholeness and share in your already-present happiness.
You can be happy, complete, and fine without a significant other. No One Person will ever be a magic medicine for any problem you face.
I am whole on my own.
No one can fix my emotional deficits but me, and that is my responsibility to myself! And better yet: it is possible.
Taking care of myself is not selfish. I deserve the same things I believe other people deserve, like love, compassion, and forgiveness – most often I need these things from myself to function well.
It seemed extremely selfish to me in years past to put a lot of time into myself. I was much less guilt-stricken if I was looking after the needs and emotions of others. It seemed like a weird idea to change my focus – to get things from myself like love, forgiveness, compassion, empathy, patience. I wasn’t good at that at first. As someone who spent lots of time tearing myself apart inside and beating myself up for things I would never beat someone else up for, this took time to unlearn.
I spent so many years looking to other conditional sources for acceptance, love, approval, self-worth. I thought it came from The One, I thought it came from friends/family/work – and while our circles and our significant other can add to our happiness, I see many people looking to others completely for their happiness. That isn’t healthy for us.
It’s easier to look at someone else and demand they fill the gap where we personally lack – it’s easier to want another person be the things we’re not good at yet. It’s easier to wish for someone to come along and be the things we admire, instead of doing the work to build up our own character into who we aspire to be with.
My experience had led me to believe that we need to realize that we can be the loves of our lives (in addition to perhaps our spouse, partner, children, other special people, etc). And it’s not wrong at all to see yourself in that way. You can take yourself on adventures, nurture yourself, comfort yourself, and be kind to yourself. You can have fun by yourself, you can trust yourself to get through every life circumstance. It’s something beautiful and empowering.
So, be the love of your own life. Smile and wink at yourself in the mirror. Be kind to yourself in your thoughts and self-talk. Practice acceptance and mindfulness. Resist the urge to ridicule, judge, or harshly criticize yourself. Invest in things that will better you and give you peace.
The story below is graciously shared by my friend/client Liz.
Feb. 27, 2017.
I’ve always been a fairly open person. For those who know me, you know I’m pretty much an open book. And that’s not to say you have to know me well for me to open up. It’s just part of who I am.
There is a certain topic or topics that have never really been openly talked about- not much, anyway. This day in age, I think that should change. I think women should be more comfortable opening up struggles with fertility and/or miscarriage. I think women need to realize there is a huge support system out there; women that have been through the same or similar situations. Sure, some women will never be comfortable talking about it because that’s just who they are. However, there are probably a whole lot of women out there who actually find comfort in talking about it. For me, personally, I have found that being real and honest about what I’m going through is best for my healing. If I keep it in, I become more depressed. If I talk about it as if it’s normal, just part of life, I find that I am less depressed. So I’ve decided to tell my story. If nothing more, just getting it down on paper helps me in a deeply personal sense.
My husband and I got pregnant with our first son very easily. We decided to start trying in January, and we got pregnant that first month we started trying. Lucky. Blessed. Those are terms that I always heard when talking about the ease of getting pregnant, but I didn’t fully understand until months after starting to try for our second child. We had it all mapped out- don’t we all? We started trying when our son was one and a half because we wanted him to be at least two before we welcomed baby #2. Our goal was for the kids to be between two and three years apart. Not less than two, and not more than three. Seriously? Seriously.
So month after month passes, and I’m not pregnant. Around month four, I introduced ovulation testing kits. My cycles were short, but like clockwork, and the ovulation testing showed that I ovulated like clockwork, as well. After six cycles, I went to the doctor because I wanted to hear that I was okay, and that I would be able to get pregnant. I needed the hope and encouragement from the doctors, and I got it. In fact, she told me to stop using ovulation kits because we already determined that I was ovulating, and since it was clockwork, there was no need to add the stress of testing. Seven cycles. Eight.
In November, I put my dog to sleep. My beloved Brutus, who I had for 13.5 years. It was Monday- the week of Thanksgiving. I was so upset, and mourning his loss. Tuesday, one day after saying goodbye to Brutus, I was lying in bed, drowning in tears. I was a day away from starting my period, so I decided to take a pregnancy test. The conversation I had with myself went something like this, “Don’t take a test, just wait until you actually miss your period. Well, I’m already depressed, so I may as well just go ahead and get that negative; I don’t think I could be any more sad. May as well pile it on.” I got my cup, collected my sample, and dipped the test in. When I walked over to the bathroom counter and looked down at the test, the faintest line was showing up in the test area. I literally said, “No fucking way!” out loud and started to sob. Bent over on the cold bathroom floor, sobbing. I was overwhelmed with emotion. One life lost, another life gained. I literally couldn’t believe it. My husband was at work, and I didn’t want to call him and tell him via phone. I decided to run out and buy a ‘Big Brother’ shirt for my son to wear- that’s how I wanted to tell Ryan. He worked late that night, and I was in bed when he got home, so the next morning, I put the shirt on Blake and had him walk up to Ryan with it on. He said, “My shirt, daddy!” Ryan looked at it, read it, and looked at me like he couldn’t really process it. I exclaimed, “I’m pregnant!!” through tears, and it was just the best feeling. That wonderful news helped me get through mourning the loss of my Brutus. I felt like I didn’t need to get as upset because I didn’t want to put the baby under any stress. What a week of Thanksgiving it really was. It took eight cycles to celebrate that happiness and joy. Perfect timing.
So we went through the Holidays with the happiness of welcoming another baby to our family. Blake was THRILLED, and talked about his baby sister every.single.day. From day one, he told us there was a baby girl inside mommy’s belly. At night, he always asked to pray for Baby Sister. He often lifted my shirt to hug, kiss, and talk to my belly.
I was more anxious with the second pregnancy than I ever was with the first. I couldn’t wait to go to the doctor to get the news that everything was okay. I think because it took so long to get pregnant, I really wanted to confirm that it was all good. My first appointment was okay. I was 7 weeks when I went, according to my own calculation. The doctor brought in the small, portable ultrasound machine. He could see the pregnancy- the yolk sack, as he called it. It was perfectly round and looked great. Because he couldn’t see much else, he said it looked like I was closer to 5-6 weeks pregnant- it was just too early to see much more and/or hear a heartbeat. I told him I didn’t know how it could be off by a week or more because my cycles were never off, but I also told him I wouldn’t try to understand the reproductive system. He assured me everything looked beautiful, he just thought it was a little early, so he wanted to see me back for a dating ultrasound in 3 weeks. When I would be 10 weeks, or so I thought, anyway.
After my first appointment, my husband asked me if it made me feel better to go. I told him not really- I didn’t get to hear a heartbeat or see anything, so I remained a little bit anxious. But I never lost hope, and I never really thought about the unthinkable.
My dating ultrasound was the Friday before the New Year. My husband and I took the day off together. We sent Blake to school, then had a nice breakfast together. I was excited to get there and see our little babe and hear her heartbeat. The ultrasound tech started the ultrasound, and we immediately saw the yolk sack. It wasn’t quite as round as it was at my first appointment, but even more…there didn’t seem to be anything IN the sack. As the tech looked around, she said, “Have you had any bleeding?” to which I responded quickly with a NO! and then she asked, “Do you feel pregnant? Have you had symptoms?” My husband quickly spoke up, “She’s felt really sick.” And I piped in, too. But then tears welled up in my eyes as I asked, “There is no baby, is there?” as I looked toward my husband who was sitting in the corner. She did a vaginal ultrasound just to confirm. I was holding back sobbing the whole time. Typically, after the ultrasound, you go in a little waiting room until the doctor is ready for you. She left my husband and I in the ultrasound room while she went and made sure a room was ready; she didn’t want us to have to wait with everyone after receiving such devastating news.
The doctor came in the room, and there really wasn’t much to talk about. I miscarried. The baby stopped developing, likely around 5-6 weeks. My body was still pregnant. My hormone levels were still pregnant. The doctor told me he really did not want to do a D&C procedure. Because no tissue really formed, he felt like my body would absorb the pregnancy over the next few weeks, and I may experience some spotting. That was it. It ended before it really ever felt like it began. What would we tell family and friends who already knew and were so excited for us? How would we explain it to Blake, who talked about his baby sister in mommy’s belly on a daily basis?
I cried the whole way home. Thank God we took the day off. I just sat on the couch in disbelief, crying off and on. It didn’t feel real. I remember texting my closest girlfriends and telling them, “There is no baby. I miscarried.” That was it. I didn’t know what else to say. It was like being trapped in a horrible dream. My husband managed to drag me out of the house for a late lunch- I really went for the strong margarita. On Saturday morning, I showered, and while in the shower, I reflected. Here is something I wrote that morning:
In the shower today, tears streamed down my face as I looked down at my body. My body that was already starting to show change- my boobs fuller and every bit of sore, my belly just a little bloated. My body that still thinks that I’m pregnant. Tears streamed down as I thought how physically I still feel pregnant- I’m nauseous and tired and blah. It’s sort of weird to feel this way, and know that I have a few more weeks of it. It makes it even harder to fully realize that this pregnancy is over. It failed.
What hasn’t failed is my faith in God and the fact that this is all part of His plan. As painful as it is. I know it’s part of life. I also know what a miracle a child is, and am learning that life is even more precious than most think. I know that this was God’s way of saying something wouldn’t have been right. He took care of it before I was too far along and before we had to make grueling decisions. I am trying to find peace in knowing that this little baby was born right into Heaven.
So, as hurt and sad as I am, I am trying to find peace and comfort in it all. I didn’t cry this morning when Blake pointed to my belly and said there’s a baby in there. I explained to him that the baby isn’t there anymore, but is in Heaven. And he repeated it numerous times, as if he really understands. Right after, he gave me one of the biggest hugs he ever has, and told me he loved me. It’s like he just knows.
I didn’t know then that the worst was yet to come. One week later, on Thursday, January 5, my body went into labor to deliver my miscarriage. I was at dinner with a client in Columbus, GA, a male coworker by my side. I felt myself start to bleed, and went to the bathroom. I text messaged my coworker and said, “We have to leave, like now.” Fortunately, we were on dessert, so we were able to leave without making a scene. Once in the car, I explained what was going on, and I called my husband. I didn’t know what to do. Ryan (my husband) suggested I just go back to my hotel, sit on the toilet, and just bleed because what else could I do? What was a relatively short drive back to the hotel felt like it took forever. I could feel blood quite literally pouring out of me, and I was holding myself off of the seat in my coworker’s truck because I didn’t want to get blood in his car. I got back to my room, and stripped down in the bathroom. Blood was everywhere. Huge clots were coming out of me. I sat on the toilet as they passed, crying and shaking. I called my husband, trying to hold it all together. He called his brother, who is a doctor (in St. Louis), and often the first person we call with anything medical related. He told Ryan to have me call my doctor… I called the doctor and spoke to the doctor on call. I think it was a midwife, actually. Anyway, she told me I needed to go to the hospital right away. I called Ryan to let him know, and then my coworker to let him know I would need a ride. I put my awesome Christmas PJs on that I packed, put two washcloths in my underwear, and took a towel to sit on in his truck. Fortunately, the hospital was only a 2 minute drive from our hotel. It was in the hospital waiting room that I started having contractions. I thought they were really horrible cramps at the time. Once I was back in an Observation room, the NP came in to check my cervix. That’s when I was told I was having contractions (what she liked to call contractual labor, which is really not a thing based on my research), and they would likely be more intense than labor pains. My body had to “deliver my miscarriage.” I didn’t experience labor with Blake, so this was all new to me. I called my coworker to tell him he could go back to the hotel, but he said he wouldn’t leave me until my husband made it to the hospital. Ryan and his dad were on their way down, but because it’s a 2+ hour drive, it would be nearly 3 am before they made it. My coworker joined me in my room, and found a channel playing old episodes of Friends and Fresh Prince. I was on an IV of morphine, which supposedly took the edge off of the contractions, but I was still miserable. Talk about being vulnerable- I was contracting in a hospital bed- laboring, bleeding profusely, and crying off and on, all in front of a male coworker who isn’t married and doesn’t have kids. I was thankful to have someone with me, but it definitely wasn’t the ideal situation. When my husband finally made it, the nurse said, “So you’re the real husband!?” when he walked in.
A vaginal ultrasound, which totally sucks to go through while you’re laboring, confirmed that I was not hemorrhaging, and my body was passing everything it needed to. I was told I could stay in the hospital while my body finished laboring, or I could go home. It was a 2.5 hour ride home, but I wanted to make the trip while I still had morphine in my system. We went back to the hotel to get my car, and my husband cleaned the bathroom the best he could. The hospital put me on bedrest until I could get to my doctor on Monday or Tuesday to follow up. That weekend- it was a tough one, one I will never forget. I got lots of extra snuggles from Blake and our dog, Jack. I bled and had cramps off and on for a whole 7-8 days after. I called work to let them know what was going on, and they were more than understanding. When I did go back to work, I eased into it. The support I had from friends, coworkers, and family was amazing. The sadness I felt was intense.
People asked how I was mentally. They asked how I felt emotionally. Asked if I was in a good place or a bad one. For the most part, I was surprised at how well I felt like I handled it. For the most part, I was OKAY. Not good, but okay. I often told people, “It just is what it is. It’s part of life, and it’s so common.” I really felt that way, and still do. Don’t get me wrong, it sucks. It totally sucks. I hate that it happened to me. To us. I hate that it happens to anyone. But I also know that I am not the first to experience it, and I certainly won’t be the last. I am not discouraged, and we plan to start trying again immediately. I don’t want or need a break because the bottom line is, we still want a baby- so badly!
April 14, 2017
At this point in our journey, we have now experienced a second miscarriage. A chemical pregnancy. That baby would have been born the week of Thanksgiving. Talk about coming full circle- welcoming a baby a year after we said goodbye to Brutus, and a year after finding out we were (finally) pregnant with baby #2. The timing was incredible. And then, in what felt like the blink of an eye, I miscarried again. My pregnancy tests that were faintly positive (3 of them), were very much negative a week later. I would start bleeding a week after that. I wrote this in the notes on my phone not long after experiencing that chemical pregnancy, on April 12, 2017:
Why is it that people don’t talk much about trouble conceiving, infertility, miscarriage, etc? Why is it so taboo??? Especially this day in age when so much is discussed so openly. Something that is SO COMMON, yet when you go through it you feel so alone.
For a year we’ve been trying. I’ve had a miscarriage at 10 weeks, and a chemical pregnancy. Although I have a large group of friends and family praying for me and supporting me, I’ve never felt so alone in my life. The emotional roller coaster, the ultimate low that you feel with every month that comes and goes. It is so hard to be hopeful. I’m sad.
And with every friend that announces a pregnancy, as happy as I truly am for them, there’s this pang of envy and jealousness. Even the feeling of, “Why not me!?” It hurts. Outwardly, I’m excited for them, but inside, I’m crying.
Often, I’m crying on the outside, too. Crying when I start my period each month. Crying with each announcement. Crying because I don’t understand why it is so hard to conceive this time. Crying because I want to give Blake a sibling so badly.
It’s true. I’m sad. I’m depressed. I’m really good at the whole “fake it til you make it” thing. I’m a “functioning depressed person,” or so I’ve coined myself. I’ve learned a lot about myself during this process. I’ve learned that I’m a whole lot stronger than I ever realized. I’m not sad ALL of the time, of course. I am blessed with a wonderful husband, and the sweetest, most amazing 2.5 year old there ever was. I have them to remind me of how wonderful life really is. I am always trying to find the silver lining in the whole situation. Ryan and I get all of this extra time with Blake, and I am trying to soak up every second of that. More time with him as an only child. One more Christmas with just him. Lots of time to make lasting memories with our only child. That’s all good and happy, until I realize that it is very possible that he could be our only one. I have to be realistic, and the reality is that maybe we won’t have another child. I would love to think that a second baby will come, but I also know that it’s not guaranteed. Just about every night, while saying our prayers before bed, Blake prays for “a baby in mommy’s belly one day, and I want a sister.” It is the sweetest thing. But it also absolutely breaks my heart because it’s not something I can just give him.
Early May
One of the things that makes this whole thing harder is that so many of my friends- close friends- have gotten pregnant and (most have) given birth since we started trying. Because we’re girlfriends, we talk about things like trying, so I know most of them started trying after us. That is SO HARD. Like I said previously, I am genuinely happy for all of them. But I also wish I was in their position. I wish it wasn’t so hard for us. I wish I could experience the joy of welcoming baby #2 into this world. Some days, it’s all I think about. My best friend is having her second baby this week, and I am ecstatic for her. I am anticipating the day, almost as much as her! But I also know that, when she welcomes her baby girl, I will feel a little bit sorry for myself, because I’m nowhere close to that point. Just being totally honest. I will feel some jealousy. And in a blink, I will feel like I can’t relate to her because we’re all of a sudden in different places in our lives.
That’s how it has happened with all of my friends that have had babies recently. I don’t want it to be that way- I don’t want to withdraw and feel like I can no longer relate to them because they have two kids and I have one. How ridiculous, right? I think so, too, but I can’t help it. Another one of my closest friends had her second baby in late February. I visited her in the hospital that day, and held that sweet little boy. I could’ve held him forever. Sadly, I have only visited him ONCE since then. Once. So I’ve seen him twice now in his 3 months of existence, and I feel like that makes me the shittiest friend. I haven’t not seen them on purpose. Life is super busy right now- work is crazy busy for both my husband and I, we work lots of long hours and have a toddler on top of that, our weekends are booked with various events- it just really is hard to make time. But at the same time, am I subconsciously withdrawing because it’s hard for me… I think that might be part of it. It feels like something natural that is out of my control. I can’t just “snap out of it” like I feel I should be able to do.
October 28, 2017
It’s October. After my last writing in May, I never sat back down to put more thoughts on paper. What better month than October to revisit it? Apparently October is Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness month. October 15th was National Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Day. A month and day that I may not have been award of had I not experienced it personally over the last year. I went back and read everything I’ve written since last February, and couldn’t help but cry. Through tears, I now type that I am almost 27 weeks pregnant with a healthy baby boy! Our rainbow baby. I can’t think of a more appropriate month to share the new- October- the month my husband and I hit things off 9 years ago, the month we got married 5 years ago, the month we welcomed our first son into this world, and the month we recognize pregnancy and infant loss.
To those of you struggling with fertility, those who have miscarried, those who are longing to be parents, and praying for your miracle baby- know you are NOT alone. Know that it is okay to be sad and depressed. It’s okay to be envious and jealous of those around you who are experiencing the joy you long for. It’s okay to feel alone, as if you are the only one in the world going through it. It’s okay to not be okay. I encourage you, however, to talk about it. Write down your feelings, say them out loud. Don’t keep it all in. Most importantly- don’t give up, and know you are strong. So strong. And most importantly, you are not broken.
ABOUT THE GUEST AUTHOR: Liz is a 31 year old mother and wife living in North Atlanta, Georgia. In her freetime she enjoys making memories with her family, reading, and pretending she’ll be caught up on laundry one day.
I’d bet quite a bit of money most of you have said this phrase to yourself many, many times in life and felt these words on a daily basis. For many people, “not good enough” defines how they feel their entire life. For many people, not good enough is a lifestyle. It’s their mentality. It’s where they live. And man, is it a horrible place to shack up.
Not until I was thirty and in the middle of pretty intense therapy did I utter very brokenly to my therapist, “I just don’t feel good enough,” and she looked at me quietly and then very purposefully asked the question I had never asked myself: “good enough for who?”
That stopped me in my tracks. I had no answer at that moment, only deep surprise at how I had no clue who I wasn’t good enough for, or what that feeling was about. I had merely felt that way and believed it. All these years of not feeling “good enough” and I had never identified who I didn’t feel good enough for, or what “good” even meant, I didn’t understand why I didn’t feel worthy or acceptable, or who was making me feel that way – I had basically let that thought in and it steamrolled my life and I had laid down in victim hood and let it oppress me.
“NOT GOOD ENOUGH.” Since that turning-point day with my therapist, I was now thinking about this phrase and its power over me daily. Questioning it thoroughly and putting a spotlight on it. I began to realize that the person who judged me harshest was always always me – that the person selling me the lie of “not good enough” was good old ME. And it was time to change that. I began to discredit that message and work to stop saying it to myself – and when I did say it to myself, now I would reply to it instead of staying silent and accepting “not good enough.” I began to accept myself and give myself all the kindness, patience, grace, and forgiveness I could always give to other people but never myself.
Today, I’ve learned that my own approval of me is essential, and that I need to approve of myself as I am today, not of who I would want myself to be. This is love and loving to stay in the moment and accept of yourself. And remember: acceptance doesn’t mean giving up on being “better” or doing “more,” it means being okay with an off day – okay with mistakes – committed to always doing your best, but generous and affectionate in your thoughts to yourself when you’re not living up to your own standards. This new lifestyle worked for me. Instead of making me worse/lazier/entitled (as I always thought self-approval would do) I’ve got more confidence. More peace. More focus, and therefore, more drive and clarity of myself and the world. Love – real love – is empowering and builds up, always.
This won’t happen overnight – and if you’re like me it’s something you know you’ll be working on probably for the rest of your life. But being happier with yourself can start today. Good luck friends!
“How endless the depths of your love, Lord God, how ceaseless the wonder of your works.”
That was a Facebook status update of mine in 2010. I posted similar ones all the time… Jesus, God, the bible — I was devout and fanatical and my entire identity was wrapped up in the religion I had been born into. For quite some years, I woke up early to study my bible and pray — I helped lead worship at a local church — I thanked God at every turn for every last thing, gave him credit for anything I accomplished – stayed a virgin until my wedding night – worried about modesty and other people’s salvation. I would listen to sermons on YouTube, buy the latest Francis Chan/Mark Driscoll/John Piper book – I listened to praise and worship music all day long, talked to God constantly, and worried over my lost/fallen friends. Basically EVERYTHING I did and thought about was in subject to God and being obedient to his word. I saw God and Jesus everywhere in all good things and my life was Christianity, faith, and doing my best to spread the love and message.
Today? I’m not that person anymore at all. I don’t believe in a god at all, not Zeus or Krishna or Allah or the Yahweh god of Hebraic origin. How does that happen? It’s not like flipping a switch, I’ll tell you that much. You don’t wake up one day and say, “hmm, I don’t think I want to believe what I’ve believed my whole life anymore! That will really be a good time to shift the foundation of how I understand the world!” The process is quite different. Painful, hard, lonely when it begins. Liberating and empowering once you’ve made peace with the new answers you’ve found and escaped the brainwashing and the groupthinking cult aspect. (Disclaimer: this article is my opinion. I am not attempting to insult anyone here, I respect and support everyone’s right to believe as they wish, but I am not going to sugarcoat my experience.)
Some people say I left the faith because I’m buying the devil’s lies (I don’t believe in him either, and I get really tired of this very superstitious statement). Some people say I left the faith because I was never a “true Christian” which is an insult and ridiculous because if I wasn’t a true follower, no one was. Other people think that I’m just confused right now. Definitely not the case. I am clear on what I believe and don’t believe. I am much more complete as a person now than I ever was before and secure in myself.
Anyway: People who knew the ‘old me’ were shocked and dismayed when I very publicly came out as an atheist in 2015 online. This was after over a year of questioning, researching, searching, praying with no answers, and learning some hard realities by going through life with a faith that ultimately left me empty-handed. Here’s a popular question: Why did I decide to let everyone know? Why did I not just quietly leave religion and go about my business without having to stir things up? Because the truth matters. And I won’t be part of a society that blacklists or bullies nontheists or seculars simply because we don’t agree on whether or not there is a god or not. I believe in having dialogues about important things. And this is important.
But I digress. What event, what thing triggered me to lose what had once been unshakable faith? It wasn’t just one thing. It was a series of events and hardships and traumas that caused me to “lean on God” harder than I ever had… but I found that there was nothing and no one to lean on when I was the lowest and most needing of help. I began to wake up to the fact that what I had done was bought into a belief that my culture had normalized. Then I had tricked/willed myself into believing it because it sounded nice, it was what I had been taught to accept, and it was “right” according to all those I had ever looked up to.
I started to really think. Not based on an ancient book, but based on my ability to reason and logic and solve problems on my own merit. I asked the hard questions about heaven and hell and what kind of god would demand blood sacrifices, order slaughter, burn his own children for eternity, and participate in genocide and ethnic cleansing. No more excuses for or rationalizations of: I read the entire bible through hard. I began to realize that when I took out my preconceived notions, ideals, and excuses I had made for Yahweh, the truth of the matter: he wasn’t real, and more than that, he was portrayed as a thug and a dictator and I realized I found him to be the opposite of loving. Would you stop a child from being raped if you could? So would I. And that means we are both more moral than the god of the bible. Yahweh was the way primitive people understood and explained the world and controlled others. And the Jesus story/new wave of Christianity that emerged about 2,000 years ago has some nice ideas in it sure, but all of the claims made therein by Jesus fail when tested empirically.
Here’s where a lot of people say I’m angry at god. No. I can’t be angry at something I don’t believe is real.
Let me be blunt: Leaving Christianity was not easy, it was not fun. I built my entire life on the faith, and to realize it wasn’t true was similar to a child finding out Santa is not real. It was honestly devastating for me for a time, it ruined relationships, it brought me more pain than good at first. I wanted it to be true. I wanted there to be a loving god, justice/happiness at the end of the story, and sense made of all the horrible stuff that happens in this world. But my current conclusion is one free of superstition or belief in any kind of supernatural force/fate/god. We are all personally responsible for our own happiness, actions, and lives. We only get one chance at life, and the forgiveness that matters is from our fellow humans when we’ve done wrong – not a guy in the sky. We are not sinful, wicked, or evil at the core, we are not worthless and deserving of everlasting torture and pain – ESPECIALLY not for simply not being capable of believing in something there is no evidence for.
So who am I now? I’m someone who wants to see humanity have success and peace and wellness. I work hard to live authentically and kindly. I’m not done learning, traveling, growing, and pondering the world we live in and what it means to be human. I am free, I follow my morals and values, and respect others as best I can. I always strive to judge less, learn more, and use the ever-shortening life left to leave something meaningful behind.
I’m sharing this story because I know other people are also struggling behind the scenes with doubts, fear, and pain over losing the ability to believe what once shaped their lives. A lot of atheists live in the closet, fearful of how people would act or feel if they knew the truth. I hope to live in a world someday where differences like these don’t dictate the ability to love and support each other.
My final thought today: think critically, question everything, and stop presupposing. Use your mind. Trust your instincts. I’m here to talk if anyone has questions or needs support.
A quick reminder to self and others today: truecourage doesn’t usually feel good. In fact, being brave implies you are taking an action that requires some risk and takes you out of your comfort zone. So of course it’s going to feel bad, threatening, and even scary. Don’t let that stop you or decide your course of action.
I think a lot of us watch others do brave things and somehow think the people doing those things aren’t having to face down immense emotional/mental obstacles to accomplish things. “That’s easy for them. I could never do that.” And so on. Listen: Forget what is easy or hard for other people and judge them/yourself less. Know that we all face roadblocks, and we can all be brave in the face of whatever it is that scares us. For some people, going to the grocery store can induce panic attacks – so all struggles are relative. It doesn’t matter what your challenge is: you are capable of facing it, and you need to know it won’t feel good to grow yourself and be brave at first. But it can get easier and better, always.
As someone who has made a lot of life changes, done things that scared me, and risked quite a lot – I have been called brave. I agree with that word because most of what I’ve done that required courage was fucking terrifying to me. The kind of fear that paralyzes you and threatens to keep you stuck where you are. The older I get, the less credit I give those feelings of fear. Yeah I still feel those things – scared, worried, anxious – but I have decided that my feelings don’t get a 100% say in my choices. I actively practice not giving them as much power as I used to. That’s been a lifesaver, one of the best life lessons I could ever learn.
It is easier to not be brave. Not speak up when we know we should – do what is expected of us by others instead of what makes us happy – remain silent instead of have an opinion that might get you unfriended – not try something new we never have before because it scares us – etc, etc, etc.
Here’s my question for you right now: years from now, will you regret forfeiting potential life joy and fulfillment and happiness just to avoid feeling badly? Will you wish you had been courageous and brave and done more to live your best life? You owe it to yourself to think about this.
I hope today you can realize that you have more bravery in you than you think, and remember that being brave doesn’t come easily to anyone. Honestly, being brave is a choice, not a feeling. Stay steady and know you can get yourself through anything, don’t let fear have control. Be true to yourself. Be patient with yourself when you aren’t some perfect superhero all the time (or any of the time).
sidewalkmuse 