October 5, 2023 Subverted Selfie Project Post (Be Your Own Beloved Edition)

DAY 05: OUR REFLECTIONS

HAVE YOU EXPLORED TAKING REFLECTIVE PHOTOS BEFORE TODAY? HOW WAS IT FOR YOU?

I know for many of us we hear 'reflection' and we think the mirror. And the mirror is often another place like through the camera where we might find old stories come up. We'll connect with the mirror later in class, but today is about reclaiming a playful and inquisitive relationship with our reflection. How did finding your reflection in this way feel?

From October 5, 2023: With photo challenges like this, I have to be careful that I don’t overthink a challenge & become paralyzed by the process. So, as I headed out, I reminded myself to keep it simple & just be mindful of recognizing those brief moments when my reflection appears on surfaces that aren’t traditionally considered mirrors.

With the injuries to my feet, my adventures have been confined to taking short drives to grocery stores, restaurants, pharmacies, & the hospital. Today was no different, as I drove from my Mom’s to Peace Arch Hospital. After registering, I head to the cafeteria to get an oatmeal cookie, a bottle of water, & a hot tea. When the cafe is closed, I stop to see what the vending machines have. When I was young, they stood as shrines of sugary, addictive junk food. But now they only offer purportedly healthy snack food items in each slot of every row. My finger reaches out to type 1, 4 & 4. The machine’s readout displays the price of a small bag of peanuts: $3.75. I roll my eyes at the price, even though I’ve purchased this item before & knew what it would say. I walk away, deciding not to get anything.

HOW IS BUILDING YOUR RELATIONSHIP TO YOURSELF THROUGH THE CAMERA FEELING FOR YOU SO FAR THIS MONTH?

We're only on Day 5, but we're already in the process of creating a habit of taking a selfie each day and building a relationship to ourselves through the camera. What has that relationship been in the past between you and a photo? And what would you like it to be like in the future? Proclaim it here in this space...what are some words to describe how you'd like your relationship to seeing yourself in photos be in the future? Open? Kind? Inquisitive? Exciting? Thoughtful? There is no right or wrong here...let whatever is coming up for you have a place to land here!

It can be a struggle to stop myself from binging. Crawl out of bed in a depressed state? Head to the kitchen to have a bowl of Corn-Pops; a few slices of toast with either butter, peanut butter, & jam on it, or instead of jam, honey; a muffin, heated with butter; a few glasses of fruit juice; a small yogurt with granola sprinkled on top; & a large cup of tea with milk. Head back to bed. When I’m driving, it can be a challenge not to turn into some place like the Dairy Queen to order a chocolate dipped vanilla soft serve cone, or a peanut buster parfait. And it’s also a challenge not to load up on an extra large popcorn; Reese’s Pieces peanuts wrapped in smooth peanut butter & a crunchy candy shell; as well as an extra large Coca-Cola when I go to the movies.

Even writing this reflection in bed makes me wonder what junk may be sitting in the cupboard, the fridge, or hidden in the garage. I haven’t gained weight since my stroke, but it’s a fear. I hate fat Steve. He kept me from being photographed with friends, & in selfies.

(278/365).

This was originally posted on Instagram.

Today’s photo prompt and reflective journaling questions for today was a part of the BE YOUR OWN BELOVED photo workshop challenge which is run several times throughout the year by photographer VIVIENNE McMASTER. It’s well worth signing up for, and doing alongside other participants.

October 4, 2023: Subverted Selfie Project Post (Be Your Own Beloved Post)

DAY 4: THE STORY OF YOU

Today we're exploring tell your story, your body's story. Let's get inspired by one part of our bodies and tell their story, focusing on a part of your body you can invite in compassion towards through this story.

You might use some of these suggestions or create your own. Let some of those stories of you spill out onto this page and into your photo today.

THESE FEET HAVE TAKEN ME...

THESE ARMS HAVE HELD...

THIS BELLY HAS NOURISHED...

THESE HANDS HAVE CREATED...

THESE EYES HAVE SEEN...

THESE EARS HAVE HEARD...

These hands have created a vanilla sundae with whipped cream, chocolate syrup, & a maraschino cherry in a small clear glass desert bowl with a short stem & pedestal - only the sundae itself was crafted out of melted wax crayons for an art project Ms Reed had our grade 5 class make.

The fingers of these hands have created the sound of music as they learned to dance across the ivory keys of the wood grained upright Yamaha piano my parents enrolled me to learn when I was ever so young. And these hands wiped away tears from my eyes on the days I’d have a temper tantrum, fighting with Mum over not wanting to practice.

These hands have created pencil drawings of the Cariboo-Chilcotin region I grew up surrounded by, in the heart of British Columbia, Canada when I was twelve years old - inspired by the pen & ink drawings of Canadian artist Al Ranger whose book “The Cariboo: Sketches, Maps & Trip Notes by Al Ranger” still has a place on my shelf today. One of those drawings won an honourable mention at a retreat in Portland, Oregon I attended through my first high school, the White Rock Christian Academy.

These hands have created oil paintings on canvas at the age of fourteen, when I told my Mum I wanted to learn how to paint like that easy going painted on television, Bob Ross. Somehow Mum found a local woman, Artist Vee Hansen, who ran a small framing & arts supplies store that also offered classes for adults. She let me join her class of adult painters, where I caught on quickly, recreating a scene of Mt St Helen’s before its explosion. It was a curriculum that eventually replaced playing the piano, a decision I’ve often regretted as I got older. But the painting has been something I’ve continued to do, on & off, ever since.

These hands have created a scar in me, when I woke to find them frozen with a tingling sensation akin to the feeling one has when their foot falls asleep. I’d felt sick before going to bed that night on the last day of January 2023, so much so I remember taking some nighttime cold & flu medication before falling asleep early, around 7pm. Around 10pm I remember waking from my slumber to a strange sensitivity that ran up my arms, into my chest & down my right leg. I remember laying in bed, slightly scared as I wondered what was happening as the awareness of something normal returned to my left side. I stumbled out of bed, & through my fog I wandered down the hallway to the kitchen to find my Mum, and explain to her how I was feeling. FAST, the acronym society uses to identify the advancing onset of a stroke didn’t seem to apply to me. FAST, but my Face wasn’t droopy. FAST, but I could lift my Arms above my head. FAST, but my Speech wasn’t impaired. So I decided to return to bed, hopeful the feeling in the rest of my body would return by morning, just as it had in my left side just a few moments before.

But it didn’t. I woke again around 6am, & struggled to even manoeuvre to the toilet. Pulling down my pyjama bottoms was a struggle, & wiping my own ass felt impossible due to that damn lingering sensation of a tingling numbness in my arm & what was my once dominant right hand. I flushed as it took all my strength to hoist myself up onto my legs, & I stumbled down the hallway to the entrance to the garage.

I sloppily stuffed my feet into my shoes, lumbering across the garage to go outside. There, I trudged through the snow to the mailbox that hadn’t been checked in days. I made it, collected the few pieces of junk mail in my left hand, and headed back towards the house only to find my right shoe had slipped off near the foot of the driveway not long after I had ventured out. It scared me that my bare skin hadn’t even noticed the cold, damp, snow as my foot took slow step after slow step to the community mailbox a block away from the house. Something was wrong.

But I still decided to ignore my aching distant desire to call 911, instead I chose to sleep some more. So, when I woke again around 11am, almost 13 hours after a part of my body decided to go on some kinda permanent vacation, I finally made the decision to call 911. After being taken to the hospital by ambulance around 2pm, emergency room staff put me through a barrage of tests. I remember the sound of my gurney’s smooth wheels gliding along the white medical grade vinyl flooring with grey speckled spots as I watched the two by four ceiling tiles pass by overhead, broken up by panels of fluorescent light tubes that lit our path. I was still conscious when a doctor came to my emergency room bedside to break the news to me. It was now around 10pm, almost 24 hours after I had awakened to my new reality of which this middle aged man offered clarity without comfort: I had suffered a stroke.

A stroke. Something old people have. A stroke. His words were scolding, for my not coming in right away, as any of the pharmaceutical cocktails they could have given me would now be ineffective. A tear streamed down my face. I’m certain anyone could have smelled the fear that was wound deep in my being at that moment in time. A stroke. Sometimes called a brain attack. An event the CDC describes as occurring “…when something blocks blood supply to part of the brain or when a blood vessel in the brain bursts. In either case, parts of the brain become damaged or die. A stroke can cause lasting brain damage, long-term disability, or even death…” A stroke.

Part of my brain was damaged. Part of my brain was dead. This was my new reality. Would these hands ever create anything ever again? Not knowing was the most terrifying of all. I sobbed deeply with the wail of a moan, a broken cante jondo. Nothing prepares you for these things. For things that have the potential to change the trajectory of the rest of your life.

(277/365).

This was originally posted on Instagram.

Today’s photo prompt and reflective journaling questions for today was a part of the BE YOUR OWN BELOVED photo workshop challenge which is run several times throughout the year by photographer VIVIENNE McMASTER. It’s well worth signing up for, and doing alongside other participants.

October 3, 2023 Subverted Selfie Project Post (Be Your Own Beloved Edition)

DAY 3: EMERGING INTO THE IMAGE

HOW HAS IT BEEN EMERGING INTO THIS EXPERIENCE?

Today's prompt is all about emerging into the process and our photo using one of my favourite creative ways to take a photo. It's a great one to help us emerge a bit more into the photo and this experience. How has it been emerging into the experience as a whole far?

Today was truly tiring. By the time I got to my Mom’s, I wanted nothing more than to just sleep the night away. All day, it felt like I could do nothing right. This morning, I slept in. Again. It’s what usually happens in my life when my insomnia leaves me tossing and turning, endlessly scrolling on my smartphone or thumbing through a half-finished book. I don’t bother having the television on, although sometimes I watch a movie or television show on my phone. Before my stroke sometimes I’d lay on my side and sketch in a sketchbook, fooling around with different coloured pencil techniques. But since my stroke I haven’t even done that, even though my physiotherapists have said it would be good to help rebuild the connections between my brain and my body. I don’t even enjoy myself that way some people do late at night. The stroke impacted my ability to be a man, and the various heart and antidepressants they have me on also leave me feeling empty inside when it comes to intimacy. Reflecting back, I don’t think I even took my morning medication. And by the time I was ready to face the world, it was after 1 in the afternoon.

I first went to Peace Arch Hospital where the elevator ride to the sixth floor felt like it took a hour, stopping at almost every floor with little to no people riding with me. I went to the IV Therapy clinic, to get a new copy of the bloodwork requisition form I needed, as I’d misplaced the one I was given a week ago to take with me to my 2:30 LifeLabs appointment. The nurse obliged, disappearing for awhile into a back office before coming back down the hall with the all important paper: my passport for another month of weekly tests. The bright light of the afternoon sun had broken through the clouds and shone down the corridor, making me squint a little & placing a hazy aura of white light around her silhouetted figure. I thanked her & left, feeling confident I’d get to the lab on time. Thankfully I did make it to LifeLabs on time, But LifeLabs rejected the form I was given, as they were adamant that there is no CP6 test the form asked for (which I later googled & learned stands for Chemistry Profile 6, or Chemistry Panel 6 in British Columbia). So I had to leave, with the hope I could get a third form during my IV appointment at 4.

I next went to Choices Market, as my Mum wanted one of their cooked chickens, which they didn’t have. So I got some slices of their own baked maple glaze ham, and a few other things before dropping it all off at Mum’s just in time to head back to the hospital for day 50 of my antibiotics IV. The same nurse who gave me the purportedly wrong form found it funny that LifeLabs didn’t know what CP6 was, and I heard her in the hallway joking about it with a few other nurses. They felt bad I’d been sent away. She also changed the bandages on my feet and toes, taking time to gently clean each toe. She told me that she was going to book time for me with a wound specialist on Friday to remove some of the hardened calloused skin that if left on the foot could stop the wounds from fully healing properly.

I then got a large bowl of pozole to go for my dinner from a local Mexican restaurant, Ay Chihuahua, as well as a couple of enchiladas, some rice, and refried beans. I then drove over to get something for my Mum from Boston Pizza, specifically, Boston’s Mac n Cheese. I had placed the order online before leaving the hospital, & I added shrimp as a surprise I thought she’d enjoy. But when she dug into it at home I found the addition was something didn’t like. At first she thought they were hunks of cheese to which I said “…no, those are shrimp. It had an option to add protein so I thought you might enjoy shrimp.”

She bit into a piece, spitting it out almost immediately. “It’s dry,” she replied with disappointing frustration. “Next time, just get me Mac n Cheese. Nothing else.”

My heart sank, as it seems whenever we get takeaway something is wrong with Mum’s meal. The only positive today was that I got her meal home quickly, so it was still hot. “I’m sorry,” I said, to which she said “…don’t be, it’s not your fault.”

I USED THE WORD 'EMERGING' BECAUSE I THINK IT'S IMPORTANT TO LET OURSELVES EASE INTO THE PROCESS. WHAT ARE THE COMFORT ZONES YOU'RE NOTICING SO FAR?

Are you noticing that some prompts are more outside your comfort zones than others? If you find yourself coming up against a comfort zone, could you let yourself use a tool like this and emerge into the photo gently rather than push yourself and make it all or nothing? Can you think of any other times you let yourself stretch into an experience, step by step and let yourself emerge gently?

After eating, I went to the guest room at Mum’s, which since COVID has become my home away from home. In fact, since my stroke & my issues with my feet, I haven’t been to my own place much at all in 2023. I crawled into bed and my little dog Kira jumped up to snuggle down next to me. My head throbbed as I mindlessly scrolled YouTube on my iPhone. Soon, I fell asleep. A few hours later my Mum woke me up, asking if I’d turned in for the evening and saying the garbage had to go out. She then looked down at the fan next to my bed, saw that it was dusty and that it needed to be wiped clean “…as it might catch fire!” She then went into the bathroom to get a cloth. I got up to attend to the garbage, & to make tea. That’s when we got into words, this time over the state of the guest room toilet which I haven’t cleaned since August. It’s these little messes that sets her off, as over time they’ve added up bit by bit. Every other day now the frustration over my laziness boils over into a war of words between us. The worst part is that I’m not mindful when Mum gets upset, my empathic nature picks up on her exasperation, raising the heat in my veins as well. It’s something I’m not proud of. It’s something I wish I could deal with better. I’m tired of my anxiety, depression, and now the 50 days of antibiotic therapy, all of which drag me down. Little victories of tackling the messes in my life seem few & far between, as I find it impossible to emerge from beneath their weighted strain that pulls me down. I want to get better, I long for it, cry for it, hell, I’d even die for it.

(276/365).

This was originally posted on Instagram.

Today’s photo prompt and reflective journaling questions for today was a part of the BE YOUR OWN BELOVED photo workshop challenge which is run several times throughout the year by photographer VIVIENNE McMASTER. It’s well worth signing up for, and doing alongside other participants.