Every morning, I wake up with more days to look back on than there were yesterday. This means I have a growing number of memories upon which to reflect. I like to focus on good times, but my brain likes to wander the darker paths. Enter what little I know about neuroplasticity and retraining the brain. Guess what? The brain will fight you. And that is why I, like most people, continue finding myself when I’m not really lost.
Not Really Lost
Life is good. I could easily argue that it is better than I deserve. Most of the time, I know how I would like to fill my day. When it must be work, it is a job that I enjoy with people who appreciate me (and vice versa). Looking back at the obstacles I overcame, I am proud of where I am. Looking forward, I am proud of the obstacles our family has removed from my son’s path. He has opportunities I could only dream of at his age. Well grounded, well fed, and well cared for, how can I possibly be lost?
I am lost in the sense that people do not know to look for me. Ideally, if you needed my gifts, talents, or skills (whatever you choose to call them), you would know that I am here to help. I become something special when what I love to do fits a need.
I have a sincere desire to help others resolve specific problems. When my gifts, talents, or skills (whatever you choose to call them) can help fill gaps for others, I usually want to be there to help. The problem seems to be one of people not being able to find me, even when I am right in front of them.
“Finding myself” means figuring out how to connect myself to the right people services I love providing. Despite past efforts and advice from friends and mentors, I consistently fall short. “Success” in photography usually comes via referrals. Efforts to network consistently fail.
Have you ever been introduced to someone who walks away without so much as a glance in your direction? Three times with the same person at the same networking event. The people who introduced me were all mutual, trusted friends in the industry. While a rare occurrence, it seems to be a pattern.
I wish I could say this feeling of being lost to others was unique to just photography. If it were, I could satisfy myself with logic explaining it away. But this sense of not being seen or heard goes as far back as I can remember. So, I go back to trying again. Reset the attitude. Put the mind in a better place. Push ahead.
Maybe it is just me. Maybe not. Either way, if you need the kind of help that is clearly in my wheel house, I am here.