Mandarin Orange

Top: Loft (similar); Skirt: Target; Shoes: Franco Sarto via TJ Maxx (similar); Jacket: Limited (similar)

People are so carefree in pictures. Isn't that weird? It's rare that a photo of yourself (especially one you're sharing with others) captures guilt, anger, sadness, pain, or anxiety. Maybe that's why photo essays about sad subjects and mug shots of celebrities are so jarring - we don't expect emotion like that to be captured on camera. As a blogger it seems particularly true - if you're out taking photos of yourself, you're likely looking your best regardless of what's going on around you, or inside you. This always resonates when there are national crises, we all stop posting for a day or two. It seems odd to be smiling when there's not much to be smiling about.

I'm feeling that way tonight as I write this blog post, that the images represented above don't really feel genuine. It's not all golden-hour photo-shoots in my world right now; I've been feeling anxious lately. Anxious for me is a bad word. It doesn't mean being worried about a big test or getting nervous about getting a good grade. It's more of an "on no, not you again" visitation from someone I don't want to see. I've always envisioned anxiety as a massive cloud of black flies that cover and eventually smother the sun. I don't know if that vision is going to resonate with any of you, unless you know my friend anxiety.

I've been anxious since, oh, I was a baby. I used to throw up because I was too excited at family gatherings. I once almost blacked out because a spider bit me.  I never liked going too far from home, away from my parents where everything was guaranteed to be safe. And then I went off to college, had an absolute blast until I wasn't having a blast anymore. It didn't take too many sleepless nights and evenings where my heart pounded so hard I thought I was dying before I googled my symptoms and identified my anxiety disorder (not a heart-attack or non-Hodgkin's lymphoma, as it turned out). Part of me feels like anxiety disorders are a dime a dozen among my generation, but somehow it doesn't make them feel any better and only slightly more manageable. It didn't help that I had friends that were suffering from the same feelings of crippling fear, because you suffer your fears alone, in your head, where monsters run wild and can gobble you up.

So I've been anxious lately, battling the crew of "what ifs" in my head. There are a bunch of life transitions coming up soon, things that take me out of my comfort zone (a rigidly designed zone made of soft cheeses, blankets, and the movie You've Got Mail). I'm attempting to embrace them with open arms (ha!), but thought it might be worth it to let you all know that these pictures are a teensy bit of a lie today. I'm feeling less like a glowing orange peel in the Spring sunshine than a twitchy bat hanging in a dingy cave on Planet Earth.