Radical honesty

My uncle, circa 1970-71

But I still have this feeling. I'm not in love with my life right now. And I know I've been through a hell of a lot. But it doesn't stop me from being restless. I've always been that way. If I don't like something, I fix it. I make a plan and I solve the problem as best I can. But see, I'm not unhappy; I'm just fine. But I don't want to live a life that's just fine. I want to live a life that I feel enthusiastic about.

This is a quote from Tasha's Truth, a well-written, wholly (and sometimes painfully) honest blog written by one of the coolest, smartest, most self-possessed people I've had the pleasure of meeting. And it spoke to me. It's been nagging at me. Every word has been burrowing into my conscience and won't let go. And I know why. Because I'm in that place too.

I've mentioned before that 2009 was a trying year, in the most oblique terms. I've tried to tackle all of these things directly but words (and at times, images too) failed me. But I'll try now. In March (St. Patrick's Day, to be exact) my uncle died. It was sudden and tragic. Death is hard to deal with anyway, even when it's from natural causes. But when someone is killed; when their life is snatched away, that is another kind of monster. My mom (and my dad too, for that matter) lost a brother. My cousins lost their father. Two of them have children who lost their grandfather. My great-aunts lost a nephew. His friends lost a dear friend. And yet to others, my uncle is just a statistic. One more notch in Chicago's absurd homicide rate. Barely worth a mention in the newspapers.

Going home for the holidays this year was bittersweet. Very bittersweet. Knowing that my uncle wasn't going to come through the door of my great-aunt's house, where my family usually gathers every Christmas, hurt deeply. Very deeply. And the fact that the rest of my extended family, save for two of my cousins, didn't show up this year made the pain more acute. I miss him. I miss him so damn much.

So. I haven't been dealing with that too well. I tend to ignore problems, hoping that they'll just go away on their own. Unfortunately, treating problems as if they don't exist does not help matters. Not at all. I'm still learning. (And I think my youngest cousin is learning this too. He and I have remarkably similar personalities.)

One of my mentors from my Howard days, Harlee Little, died last year too. He had a stroke around Christmas 2008 and passed away last January. That hurt me deeply too. He was an excellent photographer, a great instructor, and one of the first people (besides my dad) to encourage my interest in photography. I didn't see him regularly but I miss him too.

I also lost some friends last year too, one in particular who felt a need to tell me that "I was sad all the time" and needed to "get over it" one week after my uncle's funeral. Another one I've been drifting away from for some time and I think we're just in such different places right now that we barely have anything to talk about anymore. Maybe we'll reconnect one day. I don't know.

So what does this have to do with the quote above? The thing is, given everything that has happened in the past year, I'm not in love with my life right now. Don't get me wrong. I'm grateful I have a job and my relative health, a warm place to stay, because that's more than what a great deal many people have right now. But just surviving isn't the way life is meant to be lived, correct? And if I'm being completely honest with myself, I'm not happy with where I am in my life right now, literally and figuratively.

D.C. isn't a bad place at all. But living here, and doing what I do every day, makes me feel like I'm wearing a stylish sweater that fits a size too small. Everything looks fine to the naked eye but I know something is off. It's right for someone else but not me. And it's up to me to change that.

I feel uncertain about many things right now, but I know two things:

1) I love photography and exploring my surroundings with my camera.
2) I need to move.

I have a few cities in mind. Well, two, in particular. They're on opposite coasts and I need to make a decision on where I want to end up and soon. And in the short term, I need to keep shooting, keep printing, and keep doing what it is I love doing.

All I know is, I don't want to keep feeling the way I've been feeling. And I do not intend to. I want to be in love with my life. And I'm going to put in the work to make that happen.