Taylor + Andrew - Nashville, TN Wedding
Taylor and Andrew's wedding was so lovely. It reminded me of a fairy tale all day. Taylor is beautiful to start with, but then put her in a Cinderella ball gown dress and wow!
Taylor had a first look with her brother, which I thought was so special. The wedding day is a big deal for everyone, not just the bride and groom! And his reaction was so sweet. :)
Taylor and Andrew did their first look in this beautiful garden, which only added to the fairy tale feel of the day.
She looks like Cinderella, right!?
This was a first for me. Taylor rode up to her wedding in a HORSE DRAWN CARRIAGE! It was so magical!
Marah + Jared - West Tennessee Engagement
I'm so excited I get to work with Marah and Jared for their wedding. Marah has actually been in lots of photos I've taken, but always as an assistant/sister-in-law for birth stories! This is a pretty different situation. We did an entire session and absolutely no one gave birth. It's a whole new dynamic for the two of us.
Marah suggested that we do their engagement session out at Pinson Mounds because that's where Jared proposed. I was all for it. I think it's always way cooler when your locations mean something to you. Also, it was a beautiful fall morning. That's always a plus.
Me, too.
Sexual harassment. It's the conversation we're finally having ever since the recent allegations came out against Harvey Weinstein. Since all this started I've seen amazing women coming forward to tell their stories, big and small. I've witnessed conversations about the consequences of victim blaming, the prevalence and normalization of workplace harassment, and just general wishes to overthrow the patriarchy. I didn't plan to do a blog post focused on this topic, but there's an important element of this discussion that I feel is missing. Unfortunately, it's an element I can personally speak to: sexual harassment and depression.
At age 17 I had recently dropped a bunch of weight and was the skinniest I'd ever been. Eating disorders will do that to you. Being skinny was everything I always hoped it would be. I could finally borrow my friends clothes, and wear shorts without being embarrassed. I finally fit into the stereotypical idea of beauty. My hip bones jutted out. I was also finally attracting the attention of guys. Lots of attention.
I was at a work event that brought together all of the regional branches of the clothing store I worked for. I met a guy. He got my phone number. He asked me on a date.
He told me we were going to eat dinner and watch a movie. I thought he meant we would eat dinner at a restaurant and watch a movie in a theatre. We'd been driving for almost an hour when I finally asked where we were headed. He said we were going to his house. This struck me as cheap, but not sinister. Inconvenient, but not problematic. During our time in the car I found out that he wasn't 19, like I thought, but 21. This struck me as confusing, but not alarming. We arrived at his house, which was a trailer off a gravel country road in the middle of nowhere. This struck me as unimpressive, but not dangerous. To the pure all things are pure.
We went inside. He turned on the tv. The movie Mr. and Mrs. Smith was playing. He didn't even kiss me before putting his hand up my skirt. No one had ever had their hand up my skirt. I told him I didn't want to. He told me he would change my mind. I told him that was unlikely. He laughed and put his hand under my shirt. Then under my bra. No one had ever had their hand under my bra. I told him no. I moved his hands. I feigned interest in Mr. and Mrs. Smith. My unwillingness to participate in what he was doing did not deter him. I asked if we could grab dinner somewhere, but he wasn't hungry. I said I wanted to go home, but he didn't want to leave yet. I left to use the bathroom. I checked my cell phone. I had no service. I waited as long as was plausible and then went back out.
The rest of the evening was a balancing act. Be agreeable enough that he doesn't get angry. Agreeable enough that he doesn't decide to hurt you, or feel the need to hold you down. Be disagreeable enough that you leave this place without all of your "firsts" crossed off the list, only most. He touched me everywhere. I never touched him back. I always moved his hands. I never said yes. Eventually I just stopped saying anything. That. Is. Not. The. Same. Thing.
He took me home. We didn't speak. He texted me later to ask when I wanted to "hook up again". I said never. He called me a bitch.
That same night I gently broached the subject with someone I trusted. I didn't give vivid detail, but a general impression of how the evening had gone. Her response: That's just how boys are. You shouldn't let them do things like that.
I found someone at church who I thought could advise me. His response: Why were you in that situation in the first place? Why were you wearing such a short skirt? Why didn't you stop him?
I told a friend at school. Her response: My boyfriend touches me like that all the time. What's the big deal? You're such a prude.
Eventually I just stopped saying anything.
I started cutting again. I'd been clean for six months. I'd started medication. I was doing fine. Suddenly I became reclusive, angry, ashamed, and more depressed than before. I felt guilty for allowing something to happen to me that made me feel so dirty and look so naive. I was angry with myself for not seeing all of the warning signs before it was too late to change my circumstances. I was embarrassed for being so upset over something that no one else in my life seemed to think was that big of a deal. I thought God hated me for being a slut. I knew the guy hated me for not being cooperative. I was disheartened, believing that the only two options I had moving forward were to let guys touch me whether I enjoyed it or not, or be single and alone forever no matter how hard I worked to make my hip bones jut out. I felt like I deserved what happened. I had wanted to be skinny. I had wanted guys to like me. I had wanted attention. I asked for this. This was the first time I punished myself with cutting for something that someone else did.
Over the course of the year between losing weight and leaving for college I experienced behavior from men that was absolutely abhorrent. I received filthy texts and instant messages that described in detail what men wanted to do to me, or what they wished I would do to them. These came from boys at school, boys in the youth group, and even from a man at church in his late twenties. I was propositioned in grocery stores and learned not to turn my head when men started talking to me. I was hugged abnormally often and learned how to wiggle out of a hug that's lasted too long with a man who's hands wandered. I felt disgusting, used, unsafe, and wholly responsible. I hated myself for being whatever I was being that made men act this way toward me.
I eventually decided to protect myself by gaining back some of the weight. I wanted to blend into my surroundings and go back to being the girl no one noticed because she wasn't attractive enough. I protected myself from the outside world with a layer of fat. I stopped wearing make up and started wearing sweat pants. I needed to be plain. Frumpy. Unharassable. It worked. Then I hated myself for being unremarkable, unattractive, unable to keep the weight off.
I don't tell this story to garner any sort of sympathy over what happened. My story is mild compared to some. I have healed. I tell this story to remind men and women who don't think sexual harassment is "that big of a deal" that the consequences of sexual harassment on a person's mind are destructive, long-lasting, and sometimes life-changing. I tell this story to try and show people who aren't angry about sexual harassment why they should be. I tell this story to try and remind us all that the "little things" add up. Every look, every text, every boob-graze, every cat call, every crude joke, every "honey", every time a victim is blamed for an offender's actions, adds up to being made to feel less than human. Being made to feel less than human DOES AFFECT someone's mental state. It often leads to depression. Sometimes to self harm. Sometimes to suicide.
If you think women are up in arms about being whistled at, you've misunderstood. We're up in arms about what the whistling means, where it comes from, what it implies, and how it makes us feel. We hate the whistling and the boob-grazing because of how it whittles away at us over time, every day making us feel less human, less valuable, and demanding that WE be smaller in order to prevent behavior from others.
Well, I am human. I am valuable. I will not make myself small.
The Greatest Commandment
The story starts with the Sadducees. They were eager to find a reason to condemn Jesus, so they approached him and tried to trick him into saying something blasphemous or heretical. They asked him questions about the law that they thought would stump him. None of them did. A man, seeing that Jesus had a perfect answer to all of their tricky questions, decided to pose one of his own. He asked Jesus, "Out of all the commandments, which one is the most important?" His response is one of the most commonly known passages of scripture.
The most important one is this... Love the Lord your God with all your heart, all your soul, all your mind, and with all your strength. The second is this: Love your neighbor as yourself. There is no commandment greater than these.
The Sadducees were troubled by the answer. Honestly, so am I.
The choice of words is so specific. Jesus doesn't simply command me to love my neighbor in general, or to love my neighbor as God loves them. Instead he says to love my neighbor as I love myself.
And that's going to be a problem.
To love my neighbor as I love myself would be to hate her first thing in the morning and think about killing her at night. It would come with criticism of her body, her skin, her hair, her mind, and her sense of humor. It would be hold her to standards of perfection in all aspects of life and physically punish her when she fell short. My words to her would be mean. You're a terrible wife, a terrible friend, a weak person, unloved and unworthy. I would spend time in conversation telling her how much I dislike her, and convincing her that others felt the same way. In short, to love my neighbor as myself just sounds like really terrible news for my neighbor.
I've never particularly liked myself. Actually, for good portion of my life I have ardently hated myself. I always knew that the situation wasn't ideal, but it never struck me as a problem as far as loving my neighbor is concerned. What does it matter if I treat myself terribly as long as I don't treat others terribly? Hating myself only affects me, so I'm not hurting anyone. I would never treat anyone but me this poorly.
Well, yes and no.
It's true, in many ways I would never treat others as poorly as I treat myself. I would never walk up to one of my friends and say, "Those ten extra pounds make you look disgusting. You should be ashamed. I bet your husband wants nothing to do with you anymore." I would never accuse a dinner companion of being mentally inadequate for calculating the tip incorrectly. I can't fathom running a razor blade over another person - even someone who I REALLY don't like. I especially can't fathom doing that because of something as inconsequential as forgetting to pick up something from the grocery store, or eating ice cream. I just couldn't. I'm not a complete monster.
However, I have noticed the way I interact with myself impacting the way I interact with others. During my Great Depression I hated myself with all of my energy all of the time, and everything in my life passed through that filter. I felt disgusting and burdensome. I didn't believe that my life was meaningful or worth protecting. In turn, I didn't think my marriage - a partnership that is fifty percent me - was meaningful or worth protecting either. You can imagine how that went. The more I said hateful things to myself, the easier it became to say hateful things to others. When I could see that my words or actions were hurting someone I cared about I was relatively unaffected. I would think to myself, I have no intention of being here tomorrow, so what I say to this person today isn't going to matter. I won't have to clean up this mess, I'll be long gone.
I began to hate people for being what I interpreted as superior to me. I hated people for earning more money than me, being thinner than me, having a better job than me, and for having a normal brain that wasn't riddled with demons. I belittled the accomplishments of acquaintances and scoffed at the happiness I saw others experiencing. I simultaneously began to hate people for being just like me. I began to think the things about them that I constantly thought about myself. I hated people for being depressed and anxious. We all have bad days. You could handle this if you weren't so weak minded. I hated people for struggling with self control. You know the right choice, why don't you just DO it? I hated people for talking about their problems. No one wants to hear about your feelings. Suck it up and deal. I was perfectly summed up in this line from a movie, "I hate myself, but I'm better than everyone."
The more I dehumanized and stripped myself of value, the easier it was to dehumanize and strip others of their value. The less respect, care, and mercy I gave myself, the less respect, care, and mercy I gave others. It caused problems.
So, how do you love your neighbor when you hate yourself? As it turns out - not very well.
This makes me think about the specific choice of words in Jesus' response to the Sadducees. I think either of the examples I mentioned earlier would have been a perfectly acceptable way of phrasing this commandment. Love God with everything you have. Also, love your neighbor. Period. Or, even better, love your neighbor as God loves them - or as God loves you. Why not just say that?
I like to believe that Jesus said things a certain way for a reason. To me his words here sound like both a commandment and an explanation. I'm commanded to love my neighbor as myself, with the understanding that I have value and deserve respect. Therefore, so does my neighbor. I also think he's telling us that there will inevitably be a correlation between our relationship with ourselves and our relationships with others. Jesus knew our human limitations and understood that we wouldn't be very good at manifesting unconditional love for others if we couldn't even master tolerating ourselves. He says, "love your neighbor as yourself" not because it's the best way we can, but because it's the only way we can. And if that's true, we ought to be very mindful about loving ourselves.
Sorry - this is not the part where I give you all the answers about how to love yourself, repair your broken self esteem, and become a confidence factory. I spent most of the last year believing I wasn't worth keeping alive, so I definitely don't have this one all figured out. However, I am more determined than ever to work on my relationship with myself. Not only because it will be healthy and beneficial to me, but because I now believe that loving myself is an essential part of properly loving my neighbor. Loving my neighbor is the second half of what we call The Greatest Commandment, so this seems worth mastering.
I'm making progress. I'm working on being forgiving and offering myself a fraction of the grace that Christ has already given me. I'm trying to be merciful and value myself even when I don't "deserve" it. I think this process will be difficult, because I'm confident that no one dislikes me quite as much as I do. I'm definitely my own worst enemy, and sometimes I don't even think I'm worth the hassle of figuring this all out. Then I hear more words from Jesus in the back of my mind.
You have heard that it was said, ‘You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’ But I say to you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you.
To quote Kahlil Gibran: “God said 'Love Your Enemy,' so I obeyed him and loved myself.”