I am a human being first. photographer second.

It's been a trying five months.  The weight of the world is on top of my shoulders and while it's not that bad, it's been one emotional roller coaster ride.  There are many, many, good days and then some not so good days.  I'm a business owner and with that I am learning to regulate my emotions when it comes to the ups and downs of the business.  I am trying to realize: Not everything is personal.  Not everyone knows my story.  Not everyone knows my intentions.  Not everyone knows my struggle.  It's ok.  I understand I can't be everyone's cup of tea.  I am maturing as a business owner.

Emotions are part of me.  It's who I am.  I am passionate. I care A LOT!

The greatest legacy one can pass on to one's children and grandchildren is not money or other material things accumulated in one's life, but rather a legacy of character and faith. Legacy is not what I did for myself. It's what I'm doing for the next generation. No matter what happens in life, be good to people.


At the end of the day, I am a human being first.  photographer second.

Soon you'll get better....

Taylor Swift released her latest album, Lover, on August 23rd.  Eager with anticipation,  I downloaded the songs and did a quick listen because DUH.  Song 12;  a collaboration with the Dixie Chicks, stops me in my tracks.

The song starts....

"The buttons of my coat were tangled in my hair....." {I pause the TV show my husband and I are watching to listen with intent.}. In doctors office lighting I didn't tell you I was scared.  That was the first time we were there. Holy orange bottles, each night I pray to you.  Desperate people find faith, so now I pray to Jesus too.

And I say to you, "Ooh, soon you'll get better.

My eyes tear up as I try to untangle the story behind the song.  After all, we know Taylor is known for epic songwriting that resonates with something she is passionate about. As we continue to listen, I can't help but insert my own story into the meaning behind the words in the song.

And as the song ends, I look over at John and say -- I think this song is about Mental Health.  It has to be.  The song wasn't written about Mental health but for me it summarized our journey with our daughter and her struggles with mental health.  The hope we hold on to, the doctor visits, the hospital stays, the tests, the medicine bottles, the tears, everything.

Every time we step into the doctors office to see the neurologist, we are filled with hope that soon, she'll get better -- IT'S BEEN YEARS OF HOPING.  The promise that her frontal lobe can mature and she can discontinue medication and function successfully in society is our hope.

A song so beautifully written it transcends so many people's journey and brings to light that we all have hope.  The hope to beat cancer, hope to find a cure for mental health, or the hope to have just one more day with our love ones.

And I say to you,

"Ooh, soon you'll get better"
"Ooh, you get better, soon"
"Cause you have to"

Seasons of Change

It's been a hot minute since I mustered up the courage or desire to put my thoughts to words.  I've imagined plenty of stories I'd like to tell but never put the pen to paper, until this week.

It's growing more and more evident that this life moves fast.  If you don't take a moment to stop and look around, you just might miss it.

Today, my grandma moved into a nursing home.  Dementia is starting to take over and the once hip, fashion-forward woman I've known all my life is changing.  Understanding that our brain is intricate, I've accepted this change and know she can't control what is to happen next.  She is entering a season of change; a new phase of her life.  A phase that will be unpredictable but one that can also provide perhaps new personal stories of life as she fades backward in time.

Back at their homes, both of my parents are unknowingly cleaning out their spaces that once held memorable items I collected as a child.  As they hand them over to me, I sit and wonder, is it again a season of change?  Is our time together growing shorter?  It is inevitably growing shorter every year but this cleaning feels especially emotional.  Both parents delicate in their own way -- I am selfish to think I will have them forever.

It's all part of growing up, I guess.  I just worry this season of change is going to be tough.

New Life; A Tiny Miracle

Dear Taylor,

Your big day is here. I never imagined we'd get another opportunity to be parents to a second daughter. We have waited for you patiently for so many years and you were loved long before you were even conceived.

Your big sister, Ashley, is your biggest fan and took great pride in ensuring everything was ready for you. She packed your hospital bag, picked out your outfits, and organized your items in your room.  She has dreamed, wished, and hoped for you for as long as we can remember.

On the last day before you were born, we went Christmas shopping for Gran and Papa, ate at Yum Thai. Most of us had pad thai.  Ashley then went to Gran and Pop's to spend the day and I headed back home to prepare for your arrival.

Daddy washed all of the clothes, installed the base to your carseat, and tidied up the house for your arrival.

We ate dinner at Pappasito's, filled up the car with gas, and watched Sunday Night Football where the Kansas City Chiefs played the Denver Broncos and won in overtime by this bizarre kick that hit the goal post and fell into the goal.

We couldn't sleep so daddy tried rubbing my arm to help and we decided to eat just before midnight. I had some Funyuns and holiday cookies and dad had Rice Krispies.  He is the best husband in the world and was there for me ensuring you were growing as needed and had everything you needed the entire time you were in my belly!

So we're about to get up and meet your smiling precious little face.  We love you as much as it's humanly possible and can't wait to experience this great life with you! We will always do our best to keep you safe and give you the tools to be successful!

So happy birthday Taylor Grace!  It's time!

Love, 

Mom

A Letter From Peter Pan

Dear Taylor,

Today is the last day of our family as a trio.  Taylor; you are born tomorrow.  I hope and wish for you to be wonderful and happy.  You have the best and most caring mother in the world.  She has waited for your arrival ever since your sister has been born.  Ashley, your sister has waited as well for you to arrive since she was born.  I, your dad, am also excited and yet scared for your arrival.

I do the best I can.  I am a very big kid myself, so hope that I can be the father you need.  I will love you and play with you 100%, as I do your sister.  I will always love you no matter what.  I will protect you and look out for your well being.  I will sometimes say something mean; or I'll make a bad decision, but that will never change the fact that I love you.

We are all eager for your arrival and cannot wait for the new adventure with the Jansky Foursome.

Love,
Dad (AKA, Peter Pan)

You are my everything, You give me purpose

2015 has proven to be a tough year with many ups and downs.  It's been 15 straight weeks of crying and I see no light at the end of the tunnel.  My days grow longer and my nights are nearly non-existent.  My mind struggles to find peace and balance and the anxiety grows at an exponential rate.

At the end of the day, I'm not sure I can even fathom what the future holds.  Some people take it years, days, or hours at a time.  I'm down to just seconds.  I struggle to believe that god doesn't give you more than you can handle.

At the same time, I sit and stare in silence and can't imagine life without you.  You are my everything.

YOU GIVE ME PURPOSE.  

I put my two feet on the ground each day because I know you need me.  I'm giving it all I've got.

You look like a movie, You sound like a song......

We're knee deep into Ashley's first year in middle school and it feels like a horror movie that won't end. We keep trying to run from the scary negative parts that come with a transition so big and unknown but we can't escape.  The worst part is experiencing something so traumatic and scary and not having the balls to talk about it or feeling like it's judgement day if you do speak up.

Who wants to hear how your life is not perfect or how hard middle school is for your child; the homework is overwhelming, and the thought of college for your kid seems hopeless.  Everyday you're expected to wake up and be your best self yet.  Yet, everyday for the past 13 weeks -- all I've done is cry.  Cried at the hopelessness I feel, cried that I didn't have the patience I needed every day to remain calm, cried that my child had so much anxiety about a place that use to be the one sure thing that put a smile on her face, and cried because I had no idea how to make any of this better.

I've put my crying eyes on my husbands shoulders so many times this past thirteen weeks that I've lost count.  And every time, he holds me tighter than the time before and tells me everything will be ok and every time I cry a little harder.

So why is it that I feel ashamed or sad to express the hardship and horror our family is experiencing? I think the hardest part is that a lot of the things we're experiencing is because of mental neurological challenges that are not seen by the eye or that we've been judged by many for the last 7 years, it's really our own fault we have these challenges, or the fact that I shouldn't be sad or complaining because there are people who have it far worse.

In our house, many days mimic a roller coaster ride:  we are on top of the world and then at moments notice experience the steepest lows and are even flipped upside down not knowing where we're going next.  My house is a constant mess.  The old milk-filled-bowls remind me of the sadness I had two nights before, the drink next to my computer reminds me of the numerous hours spent working on my photography business, and the papers from school piled together with gym clothes remind me of the anxiety our family experiences with having a daughter with academic challenges in the public school setting.

All of these visual images store as photographs in my head that serve as a constant reminder of the adversity we face on a daily basis.