Photo memories ...

I was talking to Dave, my husband, recently about photos. That he has so many pictures of me that are totally unflattering - mainly as for some reason I tend to look as pissed as a fart in about 90% of the pictures anyone takes of me 🙄🤣 Even though I don't drink and am sometimes the only sober person in the shot, I tend to look the worst! 😬

 

He has photos of me that to many would be blackmail material ...countless double chins, or in a bikini, walking around in my undies, or bending over or some similar, not so flattering, and often rather wrinkly, angles.

 

But I just laugh at them, at me, as I honestly don't care. 

 

Why? 

 

As after this photo everything changed.

 

He took this photo of me 7 years ago today - the day before my brain surgery was due. We had just been told, that bar emergencies, I was having my surgery at noon the next day. 

 

As he took the photo, of me holding the matching fluffy toy rabbit to my 9year old son's one at home, whilst trying to type to friends online to hold me in their healing thoughts and prayers for tomorrow (it wasnt easy with vision affected by hydrocephalus); I was just sitting there wondering if this would be my last ever photo? Or maybe the last one of me ever being 'even vaguely normal' again? Would I forever be struggling, a burden to my family?

 

I was terrified. Possibly more terrified of waking up not fully with it or severely disabled and having to rely on others, than I was of not waking up at all. 

So when I woke up, while being wheeled out of the theatre 6.5 hours after entering it, seemingly intact, able to talk, then over the next day seemingly recovering as was expected, being able to walk (better than I had for months 🙏) yet still feeling as drunk as a skunk and struggling with it and the constant visual movement. All that mattered is that I had survived, plus had the hope that I would recover to something like a 'normal' life... 

 

I realised - nothing trivial mattered anymore.

 

These pictures are from the day following surgery,  the first when I was still in special care and wired up, with a drainage tube directly into my skull! But the relief is showing...along with actually looking like I struggling from having my head opened up for a few hours!! 😬😂

 

 

And with these pictures, what I did know, is how I thought I looked didn't matter one iota. 

 

It doesn't matter what others think of me, but what I think of myself and at that moment I had just love. I knew I needed to love myself, accept myself, trust myself...and life. Something I wasn't that good at doing.

 

I no longer cared if someone thought me ugly, wrinkly, grumpy, or anything... 

I knew right then I was totally unfit, looked like shit, had no energy, my face showing the trauma I'd just been through, totally at my worst... but I didn't care. 

 

I was alive. 

 

I was human and having a normal human response... So does anything else matter?

 

Many others are too scared to show their own humanity, and hide it under a veil of make up and fakeness... But why? 

 

Why do we all have to pretend? 

 

Pretend that we are skinnier, more toned, more beautiful, have the perfect pout or whatever...  just not actually being yourself. 

 

Like what the fuck is a filter about?! 🤔😂 To pretend you're 20 again? Hey, fuck it, I'm 50 next year, and I'm happy if I've got a few white hairs and wrinkles... It's better than not getting this old. My life could so easily have stopped at 42...

The last few months before these pictures were taken had shown me I could no longer pretend at all (not that I've ever dyed my hair, had my nails done or gone to a beautician!) I'd been reduced to being totally dependent on someone else to look after me, then more to save my life. (Not even able to see the mirror even if I wanted makeup. Although it would have soon been smudged all round my face from tears anyway!) What good was looking nice to please others? Absolutely fucking nothing! 

 

So, as long as no one is violating or ridiculing me ... You see what you get and post what you want. (and if you do want to ridicule, take a long look in the mirror first and work out why you feel its acceptable to laugh at others? Does it make you feel a better person as you actually feel worthless yourself? 🤔)

And yes, sometimes I do put on make up and dress up... I even have been trying to make myself fitter by going to the outside gym daily... But thats a whole different story.

7 years.

Yet it seems like it was only a year or so ago, but also forever, at the same time. 

 

Thanks again Tim 💖✨