Into the Abyss
2007 wasn’t all bad. It was that year that Karen, a dear friend, suggested I begin charging for my photography. Since before my kids were born I was fascinated with photography. Both my grandfathers were enthusiasts, but it was actually the late 80’s wave of black & white posters by Ansel Adams, Henry Cartier Bresson and others that really lit a match for me. Interestingly, in retrospect, it is clear to me that the camera was an ideal device to allow me to participate in life but also to keep me hidden so I didn’t have to fully engage, especially with my family of origin.
Daughter Nº 1 (on film!) | Chicago, Illinois | Summer 2000
In particular, after the birth of my kids, my camera was my near constant companion. I loved taking photos of children while they were carefree and lost in play. Again, in retrospect, I was getting in touch with that fabled “inner child” with whom I had such a tenuous connection. Because I owned a photo lab, I was able to produce prints at very low cost (as long as you don’t count the overhead under which I was drowning!) and so I would make and distribute prints to the parents of kids I photographed at the park, birthday parties, etc.
At some point Karen said, “You need to sell these.” I told her if she sold ’em, I’d shoot ’em. So, in the latter half of 2007, Inspired Impressions was born as a partnership of sorts. With Karen handling the sales, I began doing “children’s lifestyle” photography, capturing children’s photos while they played at a park or in the yard or at the tennis club. I always insisted on having a babysitter with the kids, rather than the parents. It is much more difficult to capture the true spirit of a child with their parents around, because the parent(s) inevitably have in mind the shot that they want and the way they want the child to look at behave. As I was always very hands off, I found it very frustrating to watch how the parents would manipulate the situation in an attempt to control the outcome. I understand it and found it tiresome so I had a “no parent” rule.
My first couple of paid sessions were late 2007 and thus my career as a “professional” photographer was launched. Now I had yet another distraction from running the lab. Perfect!
Daughter Nº 2 (digital) | River Forest, Illinois | January 2004
Once again, most of the day to day details around these years are very blurry. We were in touch with my parents, reluctantly inviting them to major events and spending some holidays together. It was typically very strained. This matched well with the marriage, which was suffering the same condition. In early 2009, I was on the maximum dose of Zoloft, 200mg per day. I felt dull, tired and overweight, with the sex drive of a castrated eunuch (is that thing?). My psychiatrist also kept insisting that I had ADHD. (For the record, I do not. I have tested the drugs multiple times. I feel zero difference when on them). At some point I agreed to add 25mg of Wellbutrin to the mix, I think because the anxiety was creeping up. This shouldn’t have been much of a shock. I was up to my eyeballs in debt on the house and the business and was going to need a miracle to get out of it. There was a dearth of these in our household in 2009.
At some point, I began experiencing constipation and some strange chest “going’s on”. I don’t even remember what it was – not pain, per se – yet something out of the ordinary – “flutters”. A full nuclear stress test was ordered (I think this cost the insurance company upwards of $3,000). I got shot up with some radioactive gunk and was ordered to walk (I think) on a treadmill as they increased the incline while monitoring my vitals. Fortunately, I had at least a summer of tennis under my (long) belt so I actually passed fairly easily. Somebody figured out it was probably the Wellbutrin, so that was discontinued. I also gave up the Adderall as it was useless. This was right around the time Amy’s parents took us all to Disney World. If you can’t be happy without antidepressants there, where can you be happy?
Shortly after our return, I got a message on Facebook from a woman I had met during my senior year of high school on a trip to Washington, DC (1987). After a platonic, enjoyable (and sober) several days hanging out in our nation’s capitol, that summer she had come to visit in Clearwater shortly after I graduated from high school. The first night we probably went to a party (if you recall, we had a few of those in high school) and she slept on the sofa in the living room. The next night, we saw a play at my old high school and went to the beach. Things then progressed quickly from purely platonic to quite steamy. Later that evening, I dropped her at her stepfather’s hotel room and I never saw her again. Interestingly enough, only a couple weeks prior to her contacting me, I had thought of her and was telling the story to a friend at a party. I now know this is called “synchronicity” and happens quite often, at least in my crazy-ass life.
Liam – one of the Images that lead to me photographing children | River Forest, Illinois | October 2004
Thus began an emotional affair over the internet and phone. Another distraction. A big, dangerous one. As an added bonus, this person actually knew my wife’s mother’s childhood best friend, as they lived in the same town. And Kevin Bacon thinks he’s got the market cornered on degrees of separation. Ha!
Clouds do have silver linings, however. This woman was the one who recommend I attend a workshop at a facility called the Meadows in Wickenburg, Arizona. She witnessed in me many of the same issues she too had struggled with over the years. She had attended what they call “Surviors I” an experiential therapy workshop that deals with the strong codependent behaviors that adult children of alcoholics often display. In late September, despite being damn near broke and without any discussion, I told Amy I was going to the Meadows to attend this $3,000 workshop. Our marriage was rapidly going off the rails.
The workshop was my first truly transformational experience and set me on the course I’ve been following for the last 11 years. I came out of it with an experience of peace unlike I had ever known. I felt as though everybody I encountered was my best friend. It was truly remarkable. Prior to leaving and not knowing what to say, I had told my staff at the lab I was going to a non-specific “workshop” for a week. When I returned, I was transformed to the extent that Wendy, one of our great staff members, said she could tell I was changed as she saw me walk through the glass doors, which were at least 30 feet from her desk. I felt lighter, brighter and connected to everybody. Except my wife.
It was clear to both of us something needed to change, yet we were both quite competitive and determined to not “fail” at marriage (it was a little late, I’m afraid). Things were getting desperate. We had talked about separating prior to my retreat in Arizona and Amy wanted (rightfully so) to know what was up. I was caught between the experience of ostensibly being wanted by this alluring woman from my past and my commitments to my wife and daughters. This was truly tearing me apart, the “Survivors” experience notwithstanding. I began having rather severe back pains. I moved to the basement to try another bed (and put some more distance between Amy and I). These were very similar to the back pains and spasms I began experiencing for the first at age 17 when a girl who agreed to go to homecoming with me dumped me a week before the dance. She was beautiful, unavailable and appeared to be rich – she drove a brand new blue and silver Nissan 280zx. (Remember this, as it will come into play again some years later.)
One day a couple of weeks after I returned, Amy was (rightfully) wondering WTF was going on. Her spidey sense was tingling. She discovered my communications with the high school fling. For weeks I had been very careful. It seems my subconscious had finally given up and unwittingly (or so it seemed) let down the guard.
At this point, I was given the option of going on a multi weekend couples counseling program or moving out. Since I had recently experienced a profound transformation, I decided that another retreat was probably a waste of time (and money we didn’t have) and would only postpone the inevitable. I moved out. I didn’t have a place to stay, so I went to the photo lab and slept on the floor on a blow-up mattress. It had a full kitchen. Interestingly enough, after the first night, my back pain was gone….
Note: this post has been ready to go for a couple weeks. I ran it by Amy and she (rightly) suggested I give the girls a heads up as to the contents as we had not ever discussed it with them. Given the oldest is nearly 21 and the youngest 18, it seems to be the right time. It wasn’t easy, but I did. They were both (seemingly) understanding and for that I am grateful. The “Affair d’Internet” is one of my top three regrets in life (and I’m not even sure I can name the other two), although in retrospect I now know it as the catalyst that was needed. We were stuck. Something had to give. I was in an emotional black hole. This woman shone a light that penetrated the vortex and gave me evidence that I COULD feel something again. The only problem was, I still hadn’t figured out how to generate this feeling for myself. I was far, far away from that.
