Mindfulness · Mixed · Photography

The Aging Tog

Photography most times requires a certain amount of stamina. Strength, really. Outdoors especially. My usual list includes carrying the camera, lenses, a tripod or a monopod, aka my second best inanimate friend – camera is the first. Add sunscreen and water (Floridian here, I dehydrate just by spending 5 minutes in the garage).

A large backpack or my sweet and small NatGeo bag, depending on the photoshoot. But I also must confess something terrible…

…sometimes I wear a fanny pack. The horror!

*closing my eyes and lowering my head in deep shame.*

To my defense, I am a 1980s teen. Best of all, they leave me hands-free, while making sure I don’t lose my extra SD cards, driver’s license, car keys. I know, still an immense fashion faux-pas… but comfort over style sometimes wins. I do not wear high heels either. There, said it.

Back to the struggles. We photographers walk a lot. Chasing a bird or looking for a special spot, a unique moment to click and make the unparalleled image, which will rise above the snapshot category and make the professional certificate on the wall meaningful. Even in studio, it can all be physically tiring. Well, for this 80s teen here, it has been.

This year has been quite difficult. I have been struggling with many health issues that decided to bombard my daily existence. I feel older than I am. I feel… unwell. Yet, I feel guilty and try to make sure to voice my gratitude because whatever I have, it didn’t show something serious as in tumor, for instance. On my birthday in February, I got the lab results saying that I was menopausal. Can hot flashes light 51 birthday candles?

I have seen nine different types of health specialists this year. Four MRIs, blood drawn enough to feed Dracula’s family on Thanksgiving. I have a frozen shoulder. Bad and painful for anyone, but for a Photographer it can be quite limiting. I have a large herniated disc in the neck, polyps were removed on colonoscopy, vertigo (my sister calls it the Exorcist eyes, read on BPPV and you’ll understand), cysts on breasts and ovaries, aches and pains galore, sinus issues, tinnitus, hearing loss, and the freakiest of all, the weird numbness on my face that no doctor has explained so far. I seriously feel like an 80 year-old body is carrying my 51 year-old mind. Just take a look at my pill box, now upgraded to a times-of-day slots model. I feel like a worn out backpack bought only last month. It all happened at once. Have I sounded like a hypochondriac yet?

Well, to make it funner, I have had health anxiety my whole life. Childhood trauma caused by my mom’s aggressive cancer and death at 48. And that is a problem on its own, with a cascade effect. Most people, including some doctors, tend to think it is always the anxiety talking, instead of real illness. The stigma sticks more than Gorilla glue. And I understand they have reasons to think that way. I gave them those reasons. I worried about nothing, many times, I couldn’t help it. And when you cry wolf, even if not on purpose, you are alone when the wolf actually comes. “You are not sick “; “It’s all stress related”; “Stop going to so many doctors”. Mmmk, I’ll just suffer all these pains and discomforts, self-diagnose with stress and cease to try and find help. Sounds like a plan!

I have studied mindfulness meditation, got a certificate from UCF and a coach. I know the great power of stress in aggravating issues, even causing many. But I also know sometimes we get sick, no matter what. Proof of that is this all happened at a time in my life where I was in a really good place, not stressed. Just days before all major symptoms began, I was sipping piña colada and getting caught in the rain, on the Fourth of July. Photo proof:

Pina colada at cloudy Clearwater Beach, Florida.
Yes, we took shelter after my son took this pic. Except for my husband. He is a heathen. Clearwater Beach, Florida.

Another point is that, throughout this ordeal, I have been calmer and made quite good progress in terms of mental health. Not on antidepressants anymore. No anxiety attacks. Anxiety pills actually moved out of my nightstand to my medicine cabinet, “as needed” has not been needed. Done with therapy. Learned acceptance. Found the patience to be a patient. Funny, huh? When I really needed good mental health for real body health issues, I managed it.

Still, all that is affecting my daily life, and my work. Maybe it will all improve dramatically, or maybe it is the beginning of a different time in my life when I have to accept pain and limitations. My new doctor said, when asked why it all happened so suddenly, “sorry to say, but aging can happen that way.”

Bam! Ouch! And all the onomatopoeia and curse words available to express my dissatisfaction. I am only f*@#$g 51! I am not supposed to age before 80! Well, I am spoiled to have a 93 year-old that who still sails, but it doesn’t always work that way, does it?

I know I am going to keep fighting this stuff because my love only gets stronger. Love for my family grows like a mighty oak tree, via appreciation and communication. My son is my sunshine, my husband is a true partner. They both make even the dark days filled with natural light. A Photographer needs good light, so does the person. I am blessed with a whole family of amazing individuals, both near and far. Self-love has also been on an all-time high here, I need myself more than ever for compassionate self-care. Love for others, wrapped in empathy and non-judgmental practice. Love for my work, my Photography. I had to adapt, slow down, tell clients I won’t be doing certain types of shoot anymore. In a way, I set myself free to do the kind of Photography I truly love. And that is luck many don’t have, I am thankful for having amazing support, to be able to say that I love my job and perform it as I can. It’s a spirits-lifting gift.

heart in shape of ballon

Love does save the day. More like the year. The lifetime, actually.



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