Before The Street Lights Come On

During this quarantine era, I’ve learned how much growth hurts. Being stuck inside means I can’t run away from myself or my problems. Around fall and the beginning of winter, you would find me traveling across the world to south East Asia, my second home running away from what I’ve hid inside. I’ve buried secrets so far underneath the epidermal layer of my skin, I can’t even find them myself. Ruminating on scenarios that haven’t occurred in my mind over and over like a never ending merry go round. Constantly in fear of the next day filled with another roller coaster of emotions. 

Realizing that you’re losing control is probably the hardest part of the journey. Hoping that your actions will somehow make you feel something or better yet, make the lows dissolve like the honey I stir into my hot cup of tea. Is this hoping enough? Will that make me feel better? When will it stop coming back like a nightmare you can’t quite slip away from. Waking up with the blurred lines of what’s just a dream and reality. Buying an excessive amount of plants just so I can feel as if I am taking care of anything besides myself. Small projects. One by one, they give me something to love on each day. Somehow it’s never enough. 

When all I “thought” I needed was a PRN but I walked away with 3 scripts. It’s devastating. I’ve worked so hard and yet that made me feel like I fell off the cliff again, struggling to pull myself back up to safety. Sleeping used to be my coping mechanism but honestly I’m not even safe in my own dreams. The fears that I’ve created in my mind come to life once my eyes flutter shut. One eyelid at a time. I took this self-portrait as a reminder of where I started on this journey and that everything else will go up from here. 

This body of work pulls back the layers of who I am. I turned the lens toward my family and broke through the invisible barriers to intimacy that have kept us from seeing who we really are.