I really didn’t want to do this; write a post reflecting on this past year. In all honesty, the last few months of 2019 were really fucking dreadful. It’s been tough to look back on all of the wonderful things 2019 showed me since tragedy struck my brother in late October, extending its tentacles outward onto the whole of my family. But, clinging to the optimist that I (was) am, I will lean into the 2020 idea of having clear vision, and spend some time looking back. While I am happy to admit that I met a few of the intentions I set for myself in 2019: To live the year with resolve, to make amends where I can and to let go where I cannot. There were a few areas in which I fell short. I did a lot of letting go, but in doing so let a little too much of myself go as well.

I heard a song on Spotify as the year came to a close that drew into sharp focus how much I miss, am missing. The people and the pieces of myself that aren’t as present as I’d like them to be. Listening to those dulcet tones of a song I’d never heard before, I realized how much of 2019 I spent playing catch up; I did so much looking inward, that I often forgot to look up and out. I didn’t photograph much. I didn’t go camping. Not even once! Unless the backyard counts (it doesn’t). I didn’t make my beloved annual canoe trip down the St Croix River. I didn’t socialize much. I didn’t share my writing here – or anywhere really with any sort of frequency, but then, I also didn’t write. The weight of everything I didn’t do was threatening to crush me, and so I decided it was time for a different perspective. Sure, there was a lot missing in 2019, but when I truly look back at the year, there was so much more that I found. So it has been comforting to view 2019 as a sabbatical, of sorts. While I did still give a little too much of myself to others, I gave most of myself to me first, focusing in on doing the necessary work to re-create Athena. Caveat being, I knew it would be necessary to un-become the old me first.

I’ve done a lot of things wrong in my life. I mean really fucking wrong. Most of my mistakes and missteps occurred between the fall of 2016 and the spring of 2019. I sure know how to just cram shit in. Now that I’m firmly and healthily on the other side of the destroy everyone else while I destroy myself Athena years, I have the ability to wax intellectual about the psychology and trauma that led to my poor choices and bad behavior. In an interesting turn of events, however, I’ve also come to realize that doing so defeats the purpose of true accountability. The why doesn’t matter to anyone but me. It’s the what that stays with people. And oof. I’ve got a lot of whos and whats to make amends to and for. Truthfully, I am thankful 2019 held a giant mirror up to my face, forced me to look at myself and really reckon with her, so that I could finally see what I had been refusing to look at for so long. So that in doing so, I could seek to understand – to heal and resolve and leave behind me – all of the whys.

At the end of 2018 and into early 2019 I was intent on letting the bridges I burned light my way. Hell bent on destruction I spent several months attempting in earnest to destroy another’s character. It was easier to blaze a fiery trail and destroy someone else as I sought ceaselessly to erase my own pain than it was to do my own work. Or so I thought. It didn’t help that I got swept up in a tide of other people’s advice and opinions, but the onus, truly, is on me. At the time I was struggling to see myself as anything more than a helpless victim, and I thought that’s how everyone else saw me, too. I wallowed in that pit for months. God was I good at it. Everything that was wrong with me and my life was because of what happened to me. It belonged to other people. It was because of other people. But hate casts a long shadow, and by early spring I was struggling. The cognitive dissonance resulting from my victim-centered storytelling was crushing me. It wasn’t the truth. At least, it wasn’t the whole truth. Nothing is ever one thing. It became necessary for me to challenge the stories I was telling myself and seek, instead, to review the events of my past through a clearer, more unbiased lens.

When I was young, or at the very least, younger, I heard the phrase “hurt people hurt people.”  It stayed with me, I used it to brace myself against the cruelty of others, and to help the girls navigate their own experiences with cruelty. But I never thought it applied to me. As I reflected on my past, honestly this time, I saw finally in a massive punch-to-the-stomach knock-the-wind-out-of-me needed-the-entire-box-of-Kleenex-in-therapy view that I was also a hurt person who had hurt other people. Talk about wild revelations! Of course I didn’t mean to, so I offered myself grace, but that’s not the point. What came of my glaring look back was my own need and desire to finally say to those I harmed most, “I am sorry.”

When a caterpillar enters its cocoon, it turns to goo, becoming an indecipherable mush. Still, it’s a living, sentient thing awaiting its transformation. It has no figure, no form, yet it worries not. The caterpillar trusts this process. I’m no butterfly, darlings. I am still very much in my cocoon, a sentient pile of goo, doing my best to trust this process. Leaning into the knowledge that, like the caterpillar, my unbecoming is for my greater good; necessary for my metamorphosis. The truest and most sincere apology that I’ll ever be able to offer those I’ve harmed, including myself, is accountability coupled with an apology and followed by changed behavior.

My apologies – here and in person – cannot and do not erase the past. And that’s okay; erasure isn’t absolution, it never will be. I can’t go back. None of us can. No matter how great a writer I am or hope to become, I will never be able to rewrite or edit over the mistakes I have made. I can only choose to keep learning from them so as to continue moving forward – onward – with grace and kindness and forgiveness and a willingness to do better. Most importantly, I need to continue to forgive myself so I can continue to live the apology others deserve. Over the course of 2019 I did reach out to those who I felt deserved an apology most, letting them know that when and if they wanted it, were ready for it, or needed it, I was ready to show up. Honest. Accountable. Sincere. With no expectations or strings attached. I’m happy to report that some bridges are being mended; new and better relationships are being forged beautifully, with hope and kindness and compassion. Yet, as is to be expected, there are others that are gone forever. Their season – and lessons – leaving indelible marks on the fabric of my being. I am incredibly grateful for both. I will continue moving forward through 2020, and for the rest of my life, apologizing by doing. By choosing better. By looking inward and growing forward. Ever pulling bits of goo together in an attempt to make my wings.

When I reflect back on the whole of 2019, I see a myriad of things; some I left behind, others I picked up along the way, a few more that were tried on, ill-fitting and out-of-style, only to be discarded. The girls both grew another year older, as did I. They’ve changed and blossomed into new and increasingly beautiful humans, and I continue to be in awe of and bewildered by them. By far, they are the greatest pieces of my life. I made a few new friends, who’ve shown up in unexpected and soul-changing ways and have woven themselves forever into my heart. I deepened a couple of the truest friendships I’ve ever known with people who show me what love and acceptance looks and feels and sounds and acts like. They’ve inspired me to continue practicing love, getting better at it every single chance I get. In April I rejoined the employed-by-others workforce and dusted off my Medical Device chops. It’s been a wild ride and I’m thankful to be a part of such a wonderful company, and to have the opportunity to help others every single day. I learned how to respect other people’s boundaries and how to set my own, though I’m still practicing enforcement. I went to therapy every single week and worked hard to dig as deep into myself as possible so as to heal the pieces of me that were still so hurt. It was rarely easy, and even less often fun, but to see how far I’ve come leaves me feeling such a strong sense of pride. Of accomplishment. I may not have gotten a lot done in 2019, but holy shit did I do a lot. 

It’s funny what happens when you set aside your ego and embrace the darkness of your own shadows, meeting them with love and compassion and empathy and kindness. I’m not an ugly person, but I have done ugly things. It’s strange to write – even stranger to experience – that acceptance and healing of all that ugly has allowed me to hold nothing but gratitude for every last ounce of my past. Don’t get me wrong, there are countless ways in which I’m disappointed in myself, things I would always do differently if given the chance. Yet now when I look back I no longer judge her, the old me. Instead, I pull her in closely, hold her tight, and remind her gently, “Now that you know better, you’re doing better. At every opportunity you’re given. What a wonderful turnaround, kid. Keep it up.”

I still don’t know what’s next; where I’m going or where I’m meant to be. Once again, the changing of the year did not provide me with a Crystal ball. I’m okay with that, too. I no longer wonder if it’s right; What I’m doing. Where I am. Where I’m headed. Contrary to my Big Aries Energy, I don’t need to be right anymore. I’m content to just be here for now. I have spent 38 years go-go-going, and I think maybe it would be good for me to be still for a little while. Or, maybe I’m still a little stuck and just don’t know which direction to walk. That’s okay, too. 2019 showed up, showed the old me out, and taught me that it’s never too late to try harder, to love bigger, or to become a brighter, better version of yourself. It also reminded me, sometimes gently and sometimes with a high five to the face with a chair, that this wild and precious life of mine is not a race. There’s no speed limit or requirement. As Machado would say, and as I’ve reminded myself of often over the course of the last year, “Wanderer, there is no path. The path is made by walking.”

So this year, I intend to keep wandering down the path of knowledge. To keep challenging myself and seeking expansion. To keep dreaming impossible dreams if for no other reason than the sheer beauty and promise of them. To keep learning how to play the violin. To keep singing off key and to be okay with the fact that I do. Because, after 38 years, that’s probably not going to change. To spend as much time as I can getting to know my daughters as they grow and change and blossom. To let them see me do the same. And, more than anything else, to continue to keep hope alive in my heart for the unimaginable. This year, as a new decade begins and I come closer to the end of another, personal one (my thirties), I am going to make a few more stops along this road and enjoy the view. Because, as Ferris Bueller would smartly remind us: Life’s pretty short. If you don’t stop to look around once in awhile, you might miss it.”

I see you 2020.Stretched ahead of me, bright and warm and full of mystery and unknowns. I’m ready for your magic and am looking forward to the view.

PS: Please be a little kinder, too. I’ll try to do the same.

xo

2018, I really, really like her! (Thank. You.)

Despite the healing, and the brilliant trajectory my self (and my life) is on, to be honest, some days I still struggle with hope; truly having and feeling it as anything more tangible than a fleeting palpitation. The unflinching optimism I once possessed is likely your greatest casualty. Up until you, ’18, I could find the light in any darkness, it was one of my greatest strengths, but you were intent on making sure I found even greater ones.

After riding the wave of you, all the grief and loss and sorrow (interspersed with so. much. fucking. joy), there are still so many unknowns. So many questions I will likely never have the answers to (and maybe? Maybe that’s okay. Maybe that’s how it’s supposed to be). In the year that you were, I learned – finally, for certain – a few things:

* Forgiving others is a gift we give ourselves and the only true path to closure.

* It takes two unhealthy people to be in a toxic relationship (it only takes one to be in an unhealthy one).

* Sometimes letting go isn’t the loss you thought it would be.

* Believing in people, seeing them for who they’re capable of becoming, despite who or how they were to you defines your character. (That doesn’t mean you are required stay and wait for them to get better.)

* Done is better than perfect.

* You cannot fix anyone. Ever.

* Always believe in love (and always one more time). (Credit to Maya Angelou for this one.)

* Fear is not the place from which any decision should be made.

* You become like the three people you spend the most time with (vet them wisely).

* No matter how adept you think you are, bleaching your hair at home is never a good idea.

* You will never be home (anywhere or with anyone) until you build one within yourself, first.

* Sliding into DM’s > dating apps

* Letting things hurt is scarier than hiding, but the pain of growth is much more bearable than the pain of destruction.

* Ignoring difficult emotions will destroy you.

* Sometimes things just don’t make sense (The greatest things (both good and bad) usually don’t).

* We don’t get to dictate, control, or change anyone’s narrative or experience.

* You cannot change people, you can only love them. And healthy love will change you both.

* Sometimes the grandest romantic gesture is leaving.

* Grief is not linear and never fully goes away. We just get better at coping.

* Asking for help is hard. Receiving it is humbling. Open yourself up to doing both.

* Sometimes life knocks you unconscious. Sometimes it knocks  you awake. (Sometimes it does both at the same time.)

* What people see in you is a reflection of themselves (just as what you see in others is a reflection of you). This is true for both positive and negative attributes.

* The only person resentment harms is the person who refuses to let it go.

* Your gut is never wrong (unless it’s asking for Taco Bell).

* The more you silence yourself the easier it’ll be for others to silence you, too. This will increase, exponentially, the rate at which the real you is diminished.

* You’re stronger than you know, and if you doubt that, the Universe will prove it to you.

* Nothing is promised and everything can be taken away, taken back, or lost forever. Proceed accordingly.

* Some bridges can’t be repaired and the best we can do in those circumstances is salute the divide from the shore.

* Most things seem impossible until you’ve conquered them. (That’s the point of doing work worth doing.)

* Smoking is gross (quitting is worth it).

* Despite it all, hope, joy, love, and life….they soldier on. It’s best if you join the march.

I don’t have any predictions for the coming year. No resolutions. Instead I want to live this next year with resolve; to continue becoming the best version of myself. To make amends where I can, and be okay with the people with whom I cannot. To let go without letting go of who I’m most proud of being. To continue to strengthen my home (places hand on heart) right here.

To continuing to find joy; heart, mind, body and spirit in any endeavor.

And to committing to saying, “yes, and…” to every. single. question.

xoxo

I met Katie four years ago when she and three other incredible, talented, and driven women invited me to make images for their recently launched digital fashion magazine. Katie has a warmth about her that is radiant. A kindness that is wholly exuberant, uninhibited and unfettered. It flows so easily from her it’s impossible believe anything other than that she is comprised of the truest heart and a sweeping, encompassing, unconditional love. We became instant friends.

I was there three years ago as the first of the Bow and Arrow Magazine girls got married, and I watched as they all, eventually, found their loves. All save Katie. And then, fatefully, finally, Katie met Matty and it was if all of the answers to all of the questions in all of the universe suddenly became clear. I don’t know how to describe it other than that. The way Katie and Matthew love each other is a beacon to all who know them; steadfast and supportive, hilarious and humble. They effortlessly bring to their relationship whatever the other lacks without a hint of judgement or reproach. It’s transcendent, and I say that without a hint of irony. There’s simply no other word for it.

Neither Katie nor Matthew have ever met a stranger, simply a friend they hadn’t made yet. As such, their wedding day felt exactly the same. A beautiful venue on a sweltering summer day filled with friends who simply hadn’t met each other yet. And while their wedding day was filled to bursting with the incredible details that make wedding blogs and magazines go all starry eyed – from the floral to the attire to the decor to the scenery – Katie and Matthew’s marriage, their relationship, was the focus of not only my camera, but everyone in attendance. The way they love each other – the way they love whomever they encounter – was all any of us could see.

Theirs is the kind of love from which legends are born.

Here are a few of my images from their wedding day:

I didn’t think Bri and Vern would get married, or at least I didn’t feel like I needed to nag them or ask “So, when are you guys going to finally make it official?” Since the moment they met they’ve been official. That was apparent to any and all who know them. Deep down, however, I always knew they’d be together for the rest of their lifetime, and that marriage itself was never the goal for these two. They spent years building a life together, and a home beside and within one another, and they were content being rooted to one another in their own deep and profound ways. So when Vern called and asked for advice in choosing Bri’s engagement ring, tears welled up in my eyes and my heart burst out of my chest as I told him whatever ring he chooses for the moment he asks her to be his wife will be absolutely perfect. Because to her – for her – he is absolutely perfect.

Every year in February Bri and Vern take a vacation together. Their only criteria is that it is somewhere warm, somewhere off the beaten path, and a place for them to reconnect and rediscover each other – preferably where turquoise waves lap softly against ecru shores. Two years ago they discovered the island of Holbox, Mexico and it proved to be the perfect backdrop for their wedding, which was infused with the same vibrant color and ease of life that is so richly present on the island. Bri + Vern tied themselves to one another in a beautiful and traditional Mayan ceremony as the sun set against the calm gulf waters. I witnessed – through my heart as their friend and my camera as their photographer – as they promised not simply to love each other the rest of their days, but to remember why it is they chose each other to battle the seas and seasons with. That together they will weather the rise and fall of each tidal ebb and flow of their love, and shelter another through the warmth and chill of each season of growth and hardship, of love and joy.

Bri and Vern have taught me, and all those around them, that the fight for love – of love – is worth it. They inspire me to love harder and bigger and deeper, in every single way I can and I’m forever grateful to call them friends and to have been entrusted with the telling of their wedding story. These are a few of my favorite images of their remarkable wedding day:

I’m honored and humbled by the honest, heartfelt, courageous and inspiring stories that were sent to us last year, and as such am So. Damn. EXCITED that Give-A-Day is back! (Click here to see the images from last year’s wedding, and click here to watch Christopher’s beautiful video.)

Eeek!

Christopher and I have joined forces yet again (can I get a HELL YEAH!) to give away a wedding film and photography package. We will meet with you, talk about your day, help with your schedule, shoot the day of events, edit the images and film into a beautiful, artistic story, and deliver it to you at no charge.

Of course, there’s a catch (but don’t worry it’s a good one!);

Each of us is donating a day of our time to you and your story, so we are asking that in return the winning couple (you!!!) do the same. We give. You give. Hearts get bigger. It’s a win-win-win.

Here are all the juicy details and all the info you need on how to submit your wedding story to Give-A-Day (it’s easy, we promise):

First: If you’re not already, make sure you are following both myself and Christopher on Instagram.

Second: Look through our websites and post a favorite photo of Athena’s, as well as a favorite film of Christopher’s (you’ll need a 3rd party app (like Repost) to post videos to IG) captioning the photo with our name (via @mention), why you love the image/film and the hashtag #giveaday2018. (Please also tag us in the photo/video to make sure we see your entry. If your IG settings are private we will not be able to see your posts, but you can DM a screen grab them to either of our IG accounts. If you only post a video or a photo your entry will not be valid.)

Third: Submit an inquiry via either of our websites (click here or here) letting us know when and where you’re getting married, which organization you’ll be donating your time to and why, and fill us in on your story. The more detailed and heartfelt and honest and candid (and all the other buzzwords) your story is, the better, as this year we’ll be selecting the winners based on the submitted story. (And be prepared to act! If chosen you must be willing to dedicate a full day of volunteering to the charity of your choice (8 hours per person/16 hours total). We will be asking for a copy of the completion document from your charity prior to your wedding day.

New This Year: (We are so excited about this!!):

First: You need not be local to Minneapolis to enter! We are (finally!) accepting entries from anywhere, and for a non-local winner will only require the winning coverage of travel costs.

Second: Do you already have a photographer or cinematographer booked for your day? Fret not! You can still enter! Just let us know if you are submitting for only photography or cinematography and are not in need of both of us.

And finally (Phew!):
The deadline for submissions is no later than 5PM Central Time, Monday, February 19th. The winner will be announced by Friday, February 23rd.

*Throws Confetti*

Fast forward to several days/nights/entire weekends of me spent inextricably staring at my keyboard, the cursor flashing impatiently, annoyingly, emphatically on the computer screen, where it would remain until I finally gave into an immense feeling of utter failure and walked away. With one or two exceptions, I haven’t managed to pen anything longer than an Instagram caption. It was impossible for me to form coherent (let alone articulate) sentences that would even begin to adequately describe the clients who entrusted me with their stories over the last 18 months, despite my best intentions or efforts.

Fast forward again to today. To right now. Wednesday morning, where I’ve been perched at my keyboard for two hours writing and re-writing in an effort to find exactly the right way to tell Kate and Adam’s wedding story. Yet still, I can’t.

But for different reasons this time. The words aren’t coming because they haven’t been created to describe people like Kate and Adam. They entered last year’s give-a-day contest (launching for 2018 tomorrow!!) and shared their story with Christopher and me and we were both immediately blown away by these two humans, their love for each other, and the monumental size of their hearts. In her submission, Kate wrote that she had known Adam since grade school, that they have been together since that time, and as such have worked diligently, vulnerably, and courageously together to build their foundation (a journey that was not without it’s challenges and setbacks). Endeavoring through the past decade (and then some) with each other created in both of them a willingness and fortitude to navigate the mess of adulting alongside one another, and the deeply rooted truth that they will be able to tackle, hand in hand, whatever the Universe throws their way.

The second I met Kate I knew she was going to be a friend of mine for life. That hers was the exact kind of energy that I needed more of in my life, and I felt immediately thankful that our hearts had finally crossed paths (which took ridiculously long considering I’ve known her sister for nearly five years. The world really is so small.) When I met Adam, it was simply whoa. Just. Whoa. Instantly I could feel the love and connection between these two humans, and knew that Kate and Adam were not the kind of people who hide emotions or shy away from vulnerability. They embrace the mess of life and honesty and love. They radiate it. Kate and Adam know, wholeheartedly and without a trace of doubt, that we grow strongest when we find the courage to pick ourselves back up after we fall, that family – whether that’s the one we’ve made or were born into – are our fiercest champions, most loyal companions and matter more than anything else, and that we should always – always – say yes to adventure.

These are a few of my favorite images from Kate and Adam’s perfectly imperfect, rainy and warm, laughter filled, heart-bursting, tear-inducing wedding day:

Shoutout to my amazing friend Nicole Feest for second-shooting this gem of a wedding story.

And!

Before you go, please watch Christopher’s video from Kate + Adam’s wedding day. It’s beyond breathtaking:

I’ve written about fitness before. Four years ago, almost to the day, I admitted that I loathed my body. That I hated what it looked like, and how I was complacent in my disdain – too afraid to do anything about how I was feeling. It took me a long time to realize that my complacency, and subsequent failure in achieving my “ideal body” wasn’t fear of getting fit, but that in getting fit I’d realize that the hatred I felt towards my body was a symptom of a bigger issue and a deeper fear, the truth of which wouldn’t fully surface until two years later in the summer of 2016. As women it’s easy for us to subconsciously place the solution to all of our problems upon our appearance. As if losing 5 pounds or dropping a pant size or having defined abdominal muscles will magically solve the issues that arise in our personal and interpersonal lives. (Spoiler: They won’t.) And yet we join gyms and diet like crazy and obsess over some number on a scale as if any of these things tell us our worth.

But weight is just a number, and we are more than that. (Just like fat is something we have not something we are.)

After my intense 2014 twelve week fitness transformation, I fell off the proverbial wagon. I still went to the gym (less than regularly), and ate healthily (except not really), and went running (this one is actually true), but I lost the intensity and drive and dedication to fully commit myself to fitness. In part because I was burned out on the macro counting and heavy lifting and early morning fasted cardio, and also because I wanted to revel in my body and not beat it up every single day. My fitness journey started, after all, because I hated myself. I was motivated entirely by an intense desire to punish my body for what it had turned into, but fitness taught me to love what my body could do instead of what it looked like.

I knew I had to leave the gym environment.  I never truly felt like I belonged at any of those I had been to in the twin cities. I started doing Black Fire HIIT workout at home with Bob Harper, and after a few weeks felt more fit than I had been in a long time. Still, I was desperately missing the community of people I found with my gal Joanne at Imago two years earlier. Serendipitously (or because somehow social media knows what we’re thinking which is ridiculous and scary (but also oddly helpful sometimes)) I started seeing Alchemy in my Instagram feed and was intrigued, though it took me months to build up the courage to get in my car and actually go. I didn’t think I was fit enough or cool enough or thin enough to be setting foot inside that gym (which is something I hear from others who want to try Alchemy but are scared or intimidated just like I was), but I knew in my heart that I wanted to be there. I wanted so badly to be a part of the community – the family – that I saw represented online, cheering each other on, lifting each other up, encouraging and supporting one another without the sideways glances or passive-aggressive fitness ability/body judgement that was rampant in every other gym setting I’d ever been in. I swallowed the lump in my throat, signed up, and forced myself to walk through the doors.

That first workout was hard (like holy-shit-what-have-I-gotten-myself-into-I-thought-I-was-in-shape hard), and afterward I felt a pride unlike any I had ever known, despite already having run two 7K’s and a 10k – accomplishments I never for the life of me thought I – a woman who before 2014 couldn’t run more than 2 minutes without having to walk – would get to claim. Lying in final resting pose after my first A10, I felt as though I had, indeed,  fallen down seven times and gotten up eight.

Alchemy has rooted firmly in me the knowledge that I can push myself past my preconceived breaking point and emerge victorious. That I can accomplish whatever I set my mind to; whether it’s one more pull-up, a heavier torpedo, or the courage to navigate the breakdown of the most important relationship of my life, the loss of a best friendship, and a year-long sea of grief and crushing depression. In the year and a half I’ve been a member I witness firsthand, time and time again, that just because I want something and set out to achieve it, doesn’t mean the goal will be reached easily. In fact, I’m more than likely going to have to work harder than I thought in order to arrive at wherever it is I am endeavoring to go. It’s taught me to live the words of Paulo Coelho, “There is only one way to learn. It’s through action. Everything you need to know you have learned through your journey.” Becoming an Alchemy athlete has instilled in me the knowledge that pursuing my legend isn’t simply about how many burpees I can do in a minute or how heavy of a torpedo I can lift, but knowing (both in and out of the gym) that I can embrace fear and uncertainty and self-doubt and push through it, relentlessly and irrevocably emerging stronger and better on the other side. The workouts are always hard (like holy-shit-what-have-I-gotten-myself-into-I-thought-I-was-in-shape hard), and that’s one of the things I love most; Alchemy doesn’t make room for complacency or arrogance. It will always, always, kick your ass and test your mettle, forcing you to prove to yourself, again and again and again, that you have the heart to follow through when the going gets tough.

A lesson that, in October of last year, saved my life.

I’m not writing or sharing this post because I want you to join Alchemy (but you totally should!) or because they asked me or are paying me to share my story (they didn’t and aren’t), but because Alchemy saved my life. Alchemy has given me the courage to keep going, despite anything life (or the workout of the day) throws at me. Getting up that eighth time has been a monumental part of my story this last year and a half, and today the legend I’m pursuing is one of self-love and self-acceptance (because they’re not the same thing, but definitely go hand-in-hand). To know that I’m working toward being and becoming my best self, whatever that looks like, and wherever that journey leads. Because, once again from The Alchemist, “when we love, we always strive to become better than we are. When we strive to become better than we are, everything around us becomes better too.” I don’t want to fear anymore. I don’t want to wallow in shame and depression for one second longer. I want to be the phoenix I have always known I am and rise. Again and again and again, knowing deep down that every time I rise is the eighth time.

And it’s the eighth time that counts.

XO

But grief is also a goddamn liar.

I spent the last twelve months trying to convince myself that it wasn’t grief I was feeling. How could I be experiencing grief when no one I loved had died? Sure, my marriage was basically over, I was being pulled in a thousand different directions, my shame was spiraling out of control, the people I loved most in the world turned their backs on me, I found myself hating myself more and more every day, sometimes entirely unable to recognize my own reflection, and nothing seemed worthwhile anymore. “But that’s no reason for grief, ” I reminded myself firmly, vehemently, emphatically.

Turns out I’m really great at lying to myself, which is surprising because 1) I’m a shitty liar and 2) I absolutely hate being dishonest. Despite my natural inclination to always-tell-the-truth-no-matter-what, I told myself over and over again that I didn’t need space to grieve. No. One. DIED. So I swallowed the grief like a too-big bite of super dry bread and forced myself to accept the belief that my depression had returned.

Depression is a liar, too. An even more vicious one than grief.

Depression carefully and cunningly convinced me that, despite repeatedly hearing and seeing otherwise, none of my closest friends, my In Case Of Emergency women, wanted me around. My sorrow was too large a burden. It told me – through my own voice and the voices of others whom I trusted wholly that I was a terrible mother. Depression led me to believe I was selfish and self-serving for giving up on doing the work it would take to fight to save my marriage, to maintain the trajectory of the future I had promised my family. But none of that was actually true for me. These accusations and character assassinations were my deepest shame-fueled fears about who I truly was showing up in the words and actions of others. Cleverly disguised as difficult-to-accept-I-love-you-so-I’m-going-to-be-honest-with-you hard truths.

Spoiler: These things – these ideas and sentiments and treatments and feelings – were neither true nor were they my truth.

I am not a bad mother, I am not burdensome. Once I accepted the grief and let go of shame, I realized that those who chose to exit my life in my time of crisis did so for reasons of their own, not because of who I am or what I am endeavoring through. I am not selfish or self-serving by erecting and enforcing healthy emotional boundaries, by shedding codependency in my relationships with others, by choosing to surrender a fight I lost all too long ago, or by venturing headlong through a scary-as-hell cliff jump toward my truest self. I am recovering from the past, from the heartache and the crises and the pain and the setbacks and all of the things that happen in all of our lives that are hard and hurt like hell. As Glennon Doyle Melton, my spirit animal and ultimate girl-crush, wrote in her book Love Warrior, “Recovery is an unbecoming. My healing has been a peeling away of costume after costume until here I am, still and naked before God, stripped down to my real identity.”

I’m finally learning who I am and in this new and fractured light, despite all the mistakes I’ve made and choices I’d make differently and people I’ve hurt and unkind words I’ve said and stretch marks or belly rolls or the utter lack of a thigh gap I’ve berated myself over, I have yet to look in the mirror and hate what I see. Instead, I see a woman I cannot wait to know. To understand more deeply. To love more wholly.

Even if no one else does.

……

A month ago as I was sitting in Estes Park, Long’s Peak cradled by storm clouds in the distance, I realized that no one was going to walk up to me and hand me a permission slip to live my best life. No one was coming to rescue me, to hold my hand and guide me toward discovering my truest and best self. The work was up to me to do. I had to throw the door open to my pain, invite it in, sit with it in the thin mountain air and let it ruminate inside of me. I had to feel. To acknowledge that my suffering existed due to my refusal to accept what was, and to let it be. It was time to stop trying to define everything as okay or not okay, good or bad, helpful or hurtful, right or wrong. So I let go. Once again I looked to Brianna Wiest and discovered the truth I was searching for all along; “you owe nothing to your younger self. You are not responsible for being the person you once thought you’d be. You do owe something to the adult you are today.”

On that mountainside the grief finally came. It washed over me and cleansed my spirit and heart and mind and soul, as water so often does. I moved through the stages as one flows through vinyasa and felt a sudden lightness, a weight finally lifted from my shoulders. I am not the mistakes I have made. None of us are. The thing about life is that it’s hard. Not because we’re doing it wrong or making the wrong choices or feeling the wrong things or loving the wrong people or taking the wrong job or wearing the wrong clothes, but because it is hard. For all of us. The things we experience and endure will mold and shape us, as the river does the rock, into the people we are meant to spend the whole of our lives becoming. The only place we can ever plan or count on arriving at is our death, so let us make a conscious and concerted effort to let go of wherever it is we think we’re supposed to be in our lives right now or what it is we think we ought to be doing or loving or living or saying or wearing or traveling or instagramming. No matter what we choose today, we will always be able to look back and see how we could have chosen differently. That’s the fucked up thing about hindsight; it leaves us wishing we had known better and convinces us that we will know better next time. Yet seeing or knowing our future isn’t a gift that belongs to us, living it is.

Through this past year, not a day has gone by in which I haven’t asked myself, “Did you do the best you could, with what you have, where you are?” It surprised me how frequently – how almost always – I was able to answer yes to all three of those questions. What more can any of us hope for but to do our best every single day? Life isn’t about how often we screw up, because we’re going to. I think the most courageous and strongest of us will fuck all kinds of shit up, likely more often than most, and when we do, when all the circuits get crossed and we find ourselves unrecognizable, or a little lost, we’ll know that it’s okay. Not only because we’re stronger, but because we are smarter too. Because we’ve let all of the experiences we’ve lived through nurture and expand and change us. In the growth that accompanies the survival of grief, we uncover an unwavering knowledge that, at any time in our lives, we can begin again. Map a new path. We learn that life is constant evolution.

A month ago, I finally started over. I began again. I became again. I feel more myself today, sitting at this computer typing and editing and spewing my truth like lava onto the screen, than I have for the past year. The past two years. The past decade. The house is quiet – eerily so. The record I was listening to has ended, I’ve failed to get up and flip it over. The clamor of the wombfruits stomping feet and slamming summer doors has ceased, replaced by the hum of the occasional airplane and a lawn mower’s nagging, whiny engine. I’m discovering myself again, learning who I am and loving all the pieces of her, and I’m sharing that here. Which means I’m opening myself up to the ideas and opinions of others. I’m always going to get criticism and judgement for sharing so much of myself online – on Instagram and this blog and on the internet in general. There are always going to be those who don’t understand why I choose to be so open, so exposed, so real and raw, and that’s okay. I write because it’s how I breathe. It’s how I learn to know and understand the truest and deepest parts of myself, and it also happens to be when I am my most authentic self. When I write I don’t put on a mask or a costume, writing is likely the only thing I’ve ever done where I’ve never worried what other people think. Writing is how I love.

The act of giving (and receiving) love is the greatest work we can possibly do. Loving ourselves and others is a constant processional toward acceptance and failure and triumph and joy and trauma and grief and every tiny and huge feeling or moment or experience in between. Everything and everyone we encounter has the power to change us, to connect us, to nurture or destroy us, to bring joy or grief into our lives forever or for a season. It’s up to us to choose what we do with the things that are presented to us.

I can’t know what the future holds for myself or for my family, but I can trust that in following the path toward self-love and real, honest, acceptance of who I am and who I will become, that neither grief nor depression will be able to control me. I can be the rock, molded forever by the river of emotion coursing through me and around me, each thought and feeling as important as the one that came before, each of them leaving their mark on the woman I’ve always been and will forever venture forward to become.

xo

It is rare for me to struggle to articulate a wedding story in words; to sum up the day with a flurry of poignant prose. It is also rare to experience a wedding day like Andrea and Kyle’s. Not because it was on a beach in Mexico (which it was), or because the love and joy Kyle and Andrea share is breathtaking and incredible to behold (it is), but largely because it is so very rare for me to become so emotionally connected to my clients in that way I did with these two beautiful souls. I don’t know how to do their story justice in words. How to tell you what it meant that Kyle’s stepdad sang an acoustic version of the Proclaimers song as a surprise for Andrea during the reception. Or that they were surrounded by a handful of their very best friends and closest family and that each of them poured gallons of love all over Andrea and Kyle and each other (including me). That it rained for the briefest of moments during the craziest reception dance party I’ve ever been to – a Mayan blessing for the newlyweds. How these two people, who were married a country away from home and reside states away from mine, are my family now, too.

Like many of my clients, Andrea found me on the internet and – by her own admission – followed my work for years. When she first found me, she didn’t know when or to whom she’d be married, but she knew that I would tell her story. Because she wanted a story. She didn’t need or want her wedding images to be scripted or forced, but rather to encapsulate every single ounce of how she would feel, and the tiny, fleeting, almost imperceptible things that she would inevitably miss. The way Kyle would always reach for her, delicately, protectively. The way her father looked handsome and rugged, full of bittersweet joy and immense gratitude. How her mother would dance and laugh and infect the crowd with glee. The way her friends would surround her and Kyle and lift them up, celebrating alongside and because of them. The way she’d laugh and cry at the same time, and what Kyle would whisper in her ear while staring at the ocean, a warm breeze washing over them both.

This season of my life has been the most challenging for me, I think, ever. Far too often I’ve found myself flailing, feeling lost and uninspired and lacking talent and drive and all of the things that are so intrinsic to who I am. This trip – these people. this story – it resuscitated me. Breathed life back into my heart, mind, body and spirit. The joy from this day washes over me still, covers my wounds like the sea does the shore, and carries me home.

I am profoundly thankful to be able to create images for a living, and am overcome with gratitude for people – for friends – like Andrea and Kyle.

Here are some of my most favorite images from this magical Mexico wedding story:

The past few months have been tumultuous at best for most of us, and like most others, I find myself compelled to do something instead of simply saying something. I’ve learned that the best thing we can possibly do to fight negativity is to breathe it’s opposite – positivity – into existence as often and vigorously as we can muster.

Last year, my good friend and wealth of inspiration of a human and creative Chris Martin launched #giveaday. He wanted to “take a more active approach to living life with intention, with purpose, and to make a difference in other people’s lives.” Christopher’s reasons for founding Give-A- Day align with my core values and the reason I became a photographer in the first place. On top of that, his generosity filled my heart in the most profound way and this year, I asked if I could join him. After all, every wedding needs a photographer, too.

Which brings me to the exciting and wonderful and crazy kick ass news:

Christopher and I are giving away a wedding film + photography package (I know!! Right!?!?!) We will meet with you, talk about the day, help with the schedule, shoot the day of events, edit it into a beautiful, artistic story, and deliver it to you at no charge. Of course, there’s a catch (but don’t worry, it’s a good one.)

Each of us is donating a day of our time, and we ask that the winning couple do the same. Hence the name “Give a Day.”

Here are all of the juicy details and how you can enter to win (it’s easy, we promise):

1.Follow both of us on Facebook and Instagram. Athena: Facebook. Instagram. Christopher: Facebook. Instagram

2. Look through our websites and, sometime (any time) in the next two weeks post your favorite photo of Athena’s and favorite film of Sky Focus‘ on Facebook or Instagram (separate App needed to post films to instagram ex: Repost) with a reason/explanation as to why you like it (or love it!), and include #athenapelton #skyfocus and #giveaday2017. Please tag us so we can see.

3. Submit an inquiry through the contact form on either one of our websites letting us know when you’re getting married, and where, and fill us in on your story. Please also include what charity you are planning to donate your time to and why.

4. Most importantly: If selected on March 7 th (two weeks from today!), you must be willing to dedicate a #giveaday (a whole day) to volunteering for the charity of your choice or equivalent to a full day (8 hours) for both of you (or combined total of 16 hours).

All entries will be put into a drawing and the winner will be randomly selected. That’s it! We will select a winner on March 7 th .

Important Tidbit: The winner must complete their day of charitable time prior to the big day. You need not be local to Minneapolis. We are accepting entries from all over the country (or the world!) and will only require travel costs to be covered by the winning couple.

Not sure how or where to start giving back? Here are a few charities at the top of our list in case you need some ideas. Of course, we love it if you choose something close to your own heart and passion.

The ARC | Arthritis Foundation | Animal Humane Society | Bridging, Inc | Habitat for Humanity