My silence began at Laity.
Or maybe it began before that, when I put off going to the chiropractor because I could feel my health descending into chaos and any more detox would mean that I might lose control altogether. Maybe it began when I called the airport for a wheelchair before I flew to Texas, when we went out and bought a cane the night before my 6:00 a.m. departure. Or maybe it was the moment when we entered the river and everyone hushed and I closed off my heart and tuned out.
I edited the trip into poetry, but I didn’t say what really happened. I didn’t write about my late-night conversations and misimpressions. I couldn’t explain missed sessions or why I was so embarrassed to be crying uncontrollably over a resounding “yes” from God. I didn’t want to share my turned-off-heart-ripped-open.
So I left out the near-collapse in the bathroom that sent me into solitude to try and breathe again after having the wind knocked out of me. I chose not to write about a piano un-played because I never could play by ear. I didn’t reach for words – or for my camera – to tell anyone about the defeat I felt. There was no sense in trying to explain my embarrassment over a golf cart dying two nights in a row. Over needing a golf cart dying two nights in a row.
What would have been the point?
Every. Single. Day. is a struggle for me. I need you to know that. I also need you to know that there is nothing you can do to fix that. I need you to let me be a person anyway.
I do not have an easy story. I don’t suspect many people do. But some stories clean up better than others, and mine has always been messier than even the most well-meaning people know how to handle. Between my broken heart, my health issues, and my depression, I haven’t had a “best foot forward” for years.
But there is no excuse for shutting down and walking away from my life.
I’m not faking what I put out here, but I leave a lot out because I am ashamed. Because it makes me feel less professional. Because I too often think that my weakness is my own business. Because I despise myself and the things that make me who I am.
It’s too easy sink into the silence and stop worrying about coming back.
I told someone the other day that photography brought me back to life. It was how I learned to see past the pain. It was how I learned to open my heart up and come alive. But I have to keep doing that or I won’t do anything.
I have to keep ripping my skin off.
Oh…Kelly. I don’t really know your story at all. But I’ve always felt the weight and beauty of your words (and pictures), and I KNOW there is much more than you share (which is the case with most of us, I suppose).
I admire how you keep going; the only way you know how is good enough and it’s your story to tell. Or not.
{{hugs}}
Robin, you have the best heart. Thank you for investing a little of it here.
“photography brought me back to life.” Oh how deeply that speaks to this heart.
You know, I can see that in your own work, Jessica…
Kelly, I’ve sensed it. I could sense it at Laity. I thought it was me, that I had hurt or offended you, but I was too afraid to ask, too afraid of losing you.
One of the things I respect most about you is that Every. Single. Day. is a struggle for you. And you bring us beauty. Who can comprehend such a mystery?
There are so many days I stop believing that bringing “beauty” is enough, especially when everyone else is doing or serving or giving in other, stronger ways.
The best days for me are the days when I need the beauty for myself and it just spills over…
Thank you for being here. And never worry about losing me. One of my friends told me once that they were afraid if they told me the truth about things, I would break apart entirely. That hurt more than anything anyone has ever said or did when they have actually invested in my life.
I feel really deeply, but I’m stronger than I seem. I think my life may be about learning to live in that tension.
Your writing this way, so honest and exposed, gives us the courage to step out there too. I noticed this week that two people mentioned you in their posts as people who encouraged them to step into something more and risk. Maybe you don’t realize that this being you is making an impact beyond what you realize because your too hard on yourself. And I can only say this because it is the way I have lived most of life and God is giving me victory one step at a time. The way you express yourself is really beautiful Kelly. So glad to have met you. You inspire me.
Shelly, wow. I didn’t know. I don’t realize that. Thank you. I am totally humbled by your comment…
Kelly, this is the kind of honesty the world needs. I’m so proud of you for being willing to step up and admit that you aren’t “okay”.
The world isn’t “okay”. We all have struggles.
I struggle every day too, yet even now, I can’t bring myself to say with what.
I’m not “okay”.
And you being willing to admit it, makes you more “okay” than me. You’ve given such a hope to me today… So thank you.
For being you.
Duane, I don’t know if I’m “more okay” than anybody – most of the time, admitting stuff like this gets me into trouble. I do it now to stay alive.
Thank you for sharing a bit of your heart here too. I am honored.
thank you, kelly. thank you for ripping your skin off. i hear a lot about “transparency” these days but it doesn’t mean anything until you read something like this. your story is messy, yes. and uncomfortable. aside from the obvious loss, i’ve got a little bit of that too.
there’s no way to tie up neatly those ends that are so loose and frayed and unraveling. there’s no way of viewing all this from a certain angle in order to see something pretty. i’m not going to try.
most of the time, i lurk in the shadows here. i read, but i don’t respond. no matter how it looks, i’d like to think that (at least a little bit) i see you. you are, for all your pain, gloriously human and you are living your story. you may not be perfect but you are living it bravely and boldly, and who could ask for more than that?
and for whatever it’s worth, for all the painful and really not-so-pretty, for all the darkness you fight with that i don’t know, i’d like to think that at least a little bit i see you — and your living out loud is courageous and beautiful.
Kirsten, I’m stunned. In the best possible way. You have given me a gift today; I am so grateful to know that you let me speak to your life as you have spoken to mine through your own transparency. You are one of the bravest people I have ever known.
Thank you for being here. You cannot know what that means to me. Thank you for seeing me. It’s scary, being seen, but it’s what my heart keeps asking for. Maybe it’s what we’re all asking for. We just might not all know it.
“But there is no excuse for shutting down and walking away from my life.”
I think that’s a profound realization, Kelly. Most of those I know who struggle with depression and the like do shut down. Keep up the fight. Hugs.
It’s hard in the culture we come from to be real about our pain, especially when we have grown so used to tacking God onto our lives as the ultimate FIX. What I never learned growing up was that some things just CAN’T be fixed, and that God meets us where we ARE, not where we think He is.
I’m as broken as anyone, Kelly. I just don’t share the “what” and “how” and “why” of that publicly. It’s better when the shadows inside get sunlight.
Love to you.
M, I’ve been honored to know a little of your brokenness. I think we all express it differently, don’t we?
Thank you for being here while I grow. I am so thankful for you!
I know we don’t know each other, really at all I guess. But your posts inspire me to be a better me and to live honestly. Your transparency makes me aware of my walls. Thank you for that. I’m trying to tear them down, and the first thing that has to happen is I need to see them. You live an example out for all of us who pass by this way.
Stacey, it’s weird how I don’t even see my walls until God brings me to a place where I can handle it. He knows our hearts, and all He asks is that we pour them out to Him.
I am glad to know you in the little ways I do here online. Someday, I bet we’ll meet. :-)
It’s funny, because it is so much easier for me to go into the rote words that I am supposed to say rather than really get into my heart and say that. When I catch myself I just shake my head and try to start over, but I am often amazed at how hard it is.
:)
Stacey recently posted..A few of my favorite things…
Were we all to rip open our skin I hope it would draw us together. I hope we would see that we are all flawed and in desperate need of grace. I hope we would see that we are loved no matter what….just no matter what.
I love you dear heart – no matter what.
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oh Linda! what a hope!
Thank you. I’m completely floored by the love today.
Kelly, I love your openness, and that’s why I love your blog(s). I, too, have a messy life, and have to fight against depression (or at least melancholy) on a nearly daily basis. Photography for me is relief from that heaviness. I consider myself a writer first, and photographer second. But whereas my writing tends to express the darkness I’m feeling, photography brings light and lifts my spirits almost instantly. I feel like photography is God’s gift to me to help me through life. If I never made a single penny from photography–and I’ve only made slightly more than that :) –I would love it just the same.
Anyway, thank you for sharing what you do. You remind me that I’m not alone, but you do it in a beautiful and hopeful way.
Robyn, thank you – I love what you said about “If I never made a single penny from photography, I would love it just the same…”
I wonder if people like us don’t usually build a business out of what we do. It’s so personal; I think it keeps us real if we let it, if we don’t let the “professionalism” kill us.
Kelly, I too don’t know you all that well but your courage and inner beauty resonates so deeply with me. Keep believing and staying strong and doing what you love; to feel alive. Big hugs to you xoxo
Rhiannon recently posted..Comment on Vatne Designs {Holiday Gifts For Her} by Kelly Sauer
This was beautiful, real and very open and I am moved as I read it. So good, so powerful. Thank you
love you.
I said to someone who holds me close in the ranting and raving, brushing back my hair while I verbally vomit pain, that I couldn’t understand why we were, above all, so harsh upon our own selves, so unforgiving of our own broken-ness. Why we can extend grace to everyone but ourselves, keep score of our disgraces…that I want out of the prison.
And every time, the only answer she gives me is simply, “love you” (shortened from ‘I love you’). It made me cry the first time (and also made me frustrated with her, ha!) but you know what? I think she’s on to something.
So here I am to say- I love you. I couldn’t care a dink or stam if you went another day blogging, photographing, anything. You’d still be you. That is all that matters. But at the same time- I rejoice when the beauty breaks through and you fly, because it’s a beautiful sight, and I know how much joy it brings to you. It brings me joy watching you. May you fly all of your days…
<3
Joy recently posted..A Christmas Daybook…
i hear you…
nance recently posted..STOP
The whole paragraph that begins “I do not have an easy story”…I resemble that remark. Just check out my blogs (a 2nd blog is linked to from the one you’ll get to by clicking on my name), and you’ll see what I mean. *Hugs*
Kelly,
My heart … Every.Single.Day.is a struggle for you … yet such beauty, such wisdom you gift to us in your art, in your delicate, profound words. I for one cannot be more grateful for you, your encouragement, your courage that has endeared you to this wanna-be photographer.
May you be as richly blessed as you have blessed all of us!
Andrea
Andrea @ A.Hutchinson Photography recently posted..Anatomy of Ashes ~ More Macro Play + Linkzy
Hi Kelly,
This is the first post of yours I’ve ever read. I came via Elizabeth Esther. I needed to read this today. Thank you so much. Thank you.
Jen
I don’t think I’ve commented before, but this post went right to my heart, and I am humbled and awed with your courage to share, especially to share the messy stuff, the stuff that is much easier to carry inside, to hide from the world, trying to hide from ourselves. your beautiful way of letting others like me know we are still ok, still worthwhile, still daughters of God. every day seems a struggle for me too, depression robs me of true living, true joy, and I can’t seem to hold onto that one thing that makes me want to pull myself up and live, but you inspire me to try harder, my story doesn’t clean up neatly, more tears cover me than joyful living, I have realized at long last, that God doesn’t always fix things, and that there may be a reason why……and that this is mine to live, to travel, and the brief, moments of true joy are his gifts, but it doesn’t make it any easier to accept.
keep writing, keep sharing your beauty and grace, you are making a difference, and you never know who your honesty and bare truth might save, give hope, and encourage. I know your story isn’t an easy one to live, or to write, but please DO, you might even save a life.
you deserve to be loved, to feel “enough” I hope that I can feel that about my self too. thanks
Kelly thanks so much for sharing your heart… I read this last night before I went to bed and couldn’t help thinking about my friend Sara who we lost this year (http://gitzengirl.blogspot.com) … and your words brought me back to the sacred trust of being allowed into the pain of our friends.
Thanks for allowing us to love on you even in your not-ok-ness and your perfectly messiness… it allows us to be messy too
Jenny recently posted..Wordless Wednesday | Tis the Season | Images that Re-Capture our Real Focus
Hello, sweet friend.
The Kelly I met in Texas–the one with the cane who drove that golf cart maniacally? The one who played the piano while we all basked in that beauty? The one who cried and laughed and sat by the river…
perhaps she is just a breath of who you are. But I found her beautiful. Ravishing, really. And fun. And maybe what makes doing this thing together is just how hard it is…holding each other up and holding on together.
I’m so glad to have found a friend in you. You give such beauty. Ever day. Despite the pain. Maybe because of sometimes.
Love to you.
laura recently posted..Mysterious
This post takes my breath away.
Thank you for reminding me.
Sheila Seiler Lagrand recently posted..The Dream Barista
“But there is no excuse for shutting down and walking away from my life” — every one else just quits. They complain and whine and hope someone will notice. What I love about you is that you keep on fighting. And by exposing yourself to us, we can surround you, love you and help you when you fall.
[...] To rip your skin off, you have to climb back inside it. [...]
oh, beautiful….
i want to settle gently over you like a sheer breath of light. pain is pain, and yours is sacred in the most sacred kind of way, peeking out shy and asking to be loved. love your pain like she is a tender little girl; hold her tender and don’t let her go. you will grow up together.
so much love. Xx.
rain recently posted..she ::
[...] have one word in my head and my heart, and I can’t shake it. It’s the word that will rip me open, the one that speaks into the fears that have held me [...]
You are not alone. Hugs.
There’s a ten-minute film. Its shapes come to mind here. You could find The House of Usher on YouTube. It’s a 1920s Berlin avant garde kind of thing. In the end, it all topples into water. But the film still closes with these two separate bits of glowing light. Together. Even when our lights don’t line up and eclipse, we’re still together. We’re still near to each other. That’s what this post tells me. Even when I feel myself fall apart or sink, the light is near. Life is near. Thank you.
Matthew Kreider recently posted..Reading and Writing
[...] This was going to be a different post, but my skin got ripped off. [...]
It is amazing that you bought the cane, you went to airport, that you got in the golf cart—that you even attended that retreat—you put on your “shame” knowing that it would cost greatly when you put yourself out there with real people.
I didn’t think I would come back—-the day I walked into a lock down unit and heard that door shut behind me. But eleven years later, I write this saying that I am restored. I not deliriously happy every moment of every day. This has been quite a process that God has brought me through. If I came back from that pit of darkness, anyone can!! My life is deeper, richer, and fuller because somehow I put on grace in the midst of the rolling angst of the mind and the body. God gave me grace, I gave it to myself, and then I extended it to others.
When I got home, I made myself do four things everyday-eat, read Scripture, exercise, and talk to a living person (other than family)– until I was able to enter into somewhat of a normal of life–whatever that is. I tell you this to say, I know…
My story is not yours and I can’t fix like you said, but I can encourage! God is with you. And I praying…because no prayer goes unanswered.