growing up, or something worse?

When I was young,

everything moved me. Old photos. Estate sales. A dog. A stranger. Airports and airplanes. The wrong time on a clock. Summer ending. Winter ending. I could have cried over it. And I did.

If you went around and asked, those who know her would tell you that Hannah–at one point–was a very sensitive person. In both good and bad ways. It wasn’t hard to hurt her feelings, and often they were. She wasn’t a stranger to crying. In fact, she’d cry at beautiful things just as much as the hurtful. In the shower, she’d cry imagining false presents: people leaving, her parent’s funerals. She often thought about life after living with her best friends, and she’d cry more. She couldn’t bear to wtch–or not watch–the old man eating alone. There are certain things one should definitely keep hold of, and others you should certainly let go. It’s up to the individual to decide which is which. But Hannah held onto everything, just in case. 

At some point—maybe gradually or all at once—she felt different.

 Things didn’t feel so…harsh. They felt foggy and unfocused, like she were underwater, with all the things happening just above her head at the surface. A later boyfriend once told her she had a cold heart. Or maybe it was small. In either case, he likened it to that of the Grinch. Hannah had laughed at this–to the boyfriend’s disgust. Not because she thought it was funny, she felt for him, she did! But because it was so utterly foreign to her, to hear someone describing her like that, that it felt hilarious.

On certain days, she’d catch glimpses of the person she used to be, and suddenly, in a panic, she’d wonder where she’s gone? Where did she go? When did she go? She was insecure, anxious, and a terrible over thinker. But she was also soft, hopeful, sweet and deep. At some point, Hannah reasoned, she’d started packing her away. She sits tucked neatly in a box up in a closet somewhere.

On certain days, something makes the box open—pop!—and there she is! She’s exposed, even if just for a second. Hannah feels her in those moments. She feels sad and a little familiar, but she also feels a lot like guilt - guilt for everything, but especially for hiding her away like that. But it’s been so long. Back in the box she goes.

On certain days, this does make Hannah sad. But that’s her, isn’t it? Feeling said. It’s the girl in the box deep down. She feels airy and vapid, waiting to be solid again.

We spend a good deal of life trying to feel less. Is that growing up? Or something worse? It can be hard to tell.

It’s one of my favorite things about photography, how it’s rewires that part of me. It demands a slower pace, it teaches observation. It keeps me noticing. Slowly, I think, I am coming back to her. Or she me?

Seasons change. Years are short. Keep an eye out for the little sweet spots in between.