Once Again, I'm Ba-ack!

  If you've read this blog any length of time at all, you know that as much as my desire to be consistent is, my life doesn't allow for much consistency. I'm not saying this as an excuse... it's just the way it is.

When you deal with (summarized)...

- multiple physical and mental health issues,

- getting married at 54 years old to someone who was never married... and only being a little over a year into that marriage,

- a grown daughter with multiple physical and mental health issues, 

- a struggling freelance business that, though it makes money, never seems to allow me to get ahead, and

- living with my elderly parents and helping them out...

... you don't have much left for things that aren't necessary.

This time it was almost a three-month-long illness (complications from surgery) that ended with my dad's death. I was at the hospital the vast majority of the days, often getting there around 7am. 

At first, I tried to work while I was there. In fact, anything posted from September 2023 until the first part of December 2023, was written while I was there. Some were written early on during that time, but due to being interrupted by a doctor or nurse, I didn't finish them until further into the hospital stay.

The stress, exhaustion, and roller-coaster ride that was my dad's illness, as he would get better and we thought he'd go home, only to have a setback, really took a toll. As would be expected, it wore me out emotionally, but it also wore me out physically - so much so, that I got very sick the week before he died and didn't fully recover for over a month.

Until this time I had never dealt with the death of a close family member. Of course, being my age, my grandparents have already passed away, but when they all died, I lived in another state. It was sad but it didn't affect my day-to-day life.

This was completely different. As I mentioned earlier, my husband and I live with my parents. We have always been there to help them out as needed, but there was the underlying knowledge that it was also to be there for the survivor when one of them died. 

I had no idea what all happens when a person dies. I don't mean the funeral, burial, etc (though those are more extensive than I realized), but everything else. I've thought about it before because I was a single mom for 15 years and wanted to have as much as possible ready in case I died before my daughter, but there's no way to anticipate everything when it's basically just a thought experiment.

Add to this that in the past few years, my dad has been showing signs of dementia. He was mostly able to stay independent, but his organizational skills went very downhill. He put paperwork wherever he felt like it. So, one of my first tasks after the funeral was over was to scour the house for anywhere paperwork that we needed to move forward could be.

Then I took all of those documents and sorted... and sorted... and sorted. I would think I was done and happen to think of somewhere else to look - and would find more. Remember that I was still sick during this time - and very, very exhausted. For a while, if I sat down without anything urgent that needed to be done, I fell asleep. That's not my norm.

It seemed that there were roadblocks with every step, in addition. For example, my dad's death certificate - which is necessary to do almost anything financially for my mom - had the wrong name on it. We had to wait to get it fixed before we could, as another example, apply for his pension benefits to be switched to my mom's name. 

Then when we got all that done, we got the official application for a survivor's pension, the name was wrong on it too! We again had to wait to get it fixed before I could take my mom to get it notarized and sent in to the pension board.

There was also a lot of family drama concerning all this that I won't go into. Just let me say that it's been a major deal and was the cause for me to drop to the lowest low I've had in a few years.

But now, almost two months after my dad's death and close to five since all this started, I'm finally doing more than trying to get "back to normal" (whatever that is). I'm somewhat succeeding. 

For the vast majority of these past five months, I've been at home when I wasn't at the hospital or at a photography shoot. My husband and I did get to go on a long-planned and already paid-for vacation when we thought he was getting better, but had to come home early when he took a turn for the worse.

Church, friends, shooting for fun, and even something as small as going out to eat didn't happen. Being able to work was sporadic, at best. Much of what I did regularly before, like my pool workouts, had to be put on the back burner. 

I still am spending a lot of time getting everything straight for my mom. I'm trying to streamline things that will make our lives easier, like getting her accounts on auto-pay, rearranging kitchen items so she can get them without help, and moving her prescriptions to a pharmacy much closer to our house.

Hours and hours and hours have been spent on all this... and there are still some things I'm trying to get worked out for her, so it's not over. Knowing it will technically never be "all over," (at least not until she's gone, and I'm trying my best to keep that from happening for a long time), I'm working to adjust to the "new normal." 

This new normal will mean getting used to being interrupted when I'm working because she can't reach something (there are never enough low cabinets). The new normal will mean I have to communicate a lot more about my upcoming schedule to make sure she'll be okay while I'm gone. The new normal will mean taking her to doctor's appointments, making sure her bills are paid, and staying on top of car and home maintenance. 

But I'm hopeful I can back to doing this... consistently. (Like THAT ever actually happened - LOL!)

You never know, though. After all, doesn't everyone say that anything is possible?

How to Interview (if You were Never Trained How)

Journalism was not a field I ever planned to go into. Both my bachelor’s and master’s degrees were in education and when I first decided to try freelancing seven years ago, I planned to use the skills I've honed over the years as a photographer to make a living. 

As an avid reader, I did have a secret dream of being a writer, specifically of writing a book one day. But to regularly write articles for newspapers and magazines? That was so far out of my thinking it wasn't even a dream.

Note that I have absolutely no training. I didn’t minor in journalism. I didn’t even take a journalism class. For that matter, I took the most basic English class I could as I was planning to be a math and/or physics major.

It was a "God-thing" that I started writing professionally. Working as a photographer led to a chance to write a series of articles. That led to writing more.

But before you decide that this post isn’t worth your time and you leave to read another post from someone who does know what they are doing, let me explain where I am now.

I’m not bragging because it really was God-thing after God-thing that got me to where I am, but in the four years since I started writing professionally, I have interviewed and written articles about musical artists, film producers/directors, best-selling authors, and professional sports.

 In addition, I’ve won both local and national awards for my writing and gotten numerous compliments from those who have been interviewed a lot throughout their careers.

 I must be doing something right.

So now, back to the beginning…

When I started writing for a newspaper, I started having a lot of what I thought were great ideas for articles. However, I had no idea of the steps to take an idea all the way to a published article.

Between pride and social anxiety, I hesitated to ask others for help. I didn’t know about SCWC (Southern Christian Writer’s Conference) or other similar organizations.

I decided I would try to figure it out on my own, with a little advice from a friend who was a former journalist.

My first two articles were relatively easy. I saw that TobyMac and Hillsong United were coming to Birmingham, AL and I got a green light to try to cover the concerts.

The first hurdle was finding the agent/tour manager/publicist to grant me a press pass. That’s still how I start today – type in the name of the artist, follow it with “manager” and see what Google says.

Sometimes this works. Sometimes it doesn’t. At first, I didn’t have the skills to go beyond that step, but thankfully, at the time it worked.

After submitting those two, I really caught the bug. I realized this was fun and I had a feeling it was something I could do well.

From these I went to a journalist-type coverage of a workshop at Samford. I took notes and photos, but other than a follow-up question or two, I still wasn’t doing any real interviewing… yet.

Then came the first big interview (or so I thought) - Chonda Pierce. I got in touch with her management and included a note in the pitch to the paper that she would also be a good podcast subject.

They thought that was a great idea. So, my “first interview” was conducted by someone else. They used some of my questions, but mostly it was their interview.

I recorded and took notes (literally transcribing the whole thing without software… pro tip – don’t!) and wrote an article based on the podcast.

When my first real solo interview opportunity came up, I hadn’t asked for it. I didn’t even want to get the information that way. I wanted to cover the event as I had been doing.

However, I couldn’t get into the event so my first ever “real” interview was done only because I couldn’t get the information through research alone.

Looking back to that interview, I have to laugh. I hand-wrote my notes. I again transcribed every word from my voice recording. It was a mess and took forever to finish.

To try to improve (without bothering anyone), I found writing organizations; I watched online workshops; I listened to great interviewers doing their thing. But mostly I simply tried to analyze what went well and what didn’t after each interview.

From there, it just evolved.

At first my questions came mostly from what I wanted to learn. Even though I kept in mind that it was also about the reader, it took a while for me to think more from the publication’s audience’s perspective. (Boy, is that embarrassing to admit!)

I also didn’t want to simply regurgitate what had already been written so my questions had to reflect that.

One thing that helped was a game my journalist friend shared early on: “Stump the Interviewee.”

Within the big goal of composing an interesting, well-written article, my small goal, especially with those who had been interviewed a lot and had pat answers developed for most questions, is to hear at least once during the interview, “Man, that’s a great question!”

One of my favorite instances of this was a question I asked Matthew West (one of the few interviews where I’m such a big fan that I had to work to stay professional and not go all “fan-girl” during the interview).

I came up with the question during the K-Love Fan Awards’ press conference. I thought it was amazing (in my humble opinion).

The question was "It’s obvious that fans resonate with your message of being honest, real, and vulnerable. Why do you think it’s still so hard to be transparent at church or with other Christians? What can we do about it?”

When he didn’t show for the press conference, I got to ask it during an interview – and I got my “Man, that’s a great question!” 😊

I’m still learning (and know I always will be). Though I love my current style and it seems to work, I’m now trying to figure out how to be more efficient, with more directed questions.

That’s one of the great things about writing; it’s a field where someone can start at any level of training and learn as you go.

Plus, you never know where you’ll end up. Maybe you could also interview Matthew West!

Other tips/advice:

-        I try to do interviews from home so I can take notes on my computer.

-        I make sure to record it… on two platforms. It’s happened more than once that one of my recording devices failed.

-        I randomly add timestamps throughout so that I can easily find exactly what was said.

-        When I hear a potential quote, I write “QUOTE” with the timestamp. I’ve also started adding “START WITH THIS” or “END WITH THIS” to refresh my memory later.

-        I always ask for permission to record. I’ve never been told no, but a refusal is always possible.

-        I have a system to back-up all of my notes and recordings.

 

BIO:

Tracy is an award-winning professional writer/photographer and has had hundreds of articles and thousands of photos published in newspapers, magazines and online. She’s passionate about helping others and finding unique angles for telling stories through images and words.

Offshoots of this passion are her blogs – one about her learning curve (and mistakes) as a freelancer and another about mental health and invisible illnesses called “Spotlight on Stigma - Welcomed but Not Accepted.” She’s also learning sign language and goes to a Deaf church. She has one adult daughter, is a caregiver for her elderly parents, and recently married a fellow photographer, Travis Frontz, who has just joined her freelance business full-time.

To find out more about their work, go to www.NovelPhotos.com. To read her blog about being a freelancer, go to the Novel Photos website and find “Novel Photos’ Blog” in the menu. To read her blog about stigmas, go to www.SpotlightonStigma.com.

 

When Hopes and Dreams Attach to Things

I'm embarrassed even as I write this. 

Backstory... My husband recently joined my freelancing business. It's something we had planned to do "one day" but not right now. 

An unexpected job loss and a little too much work for me to handle it on my own pushed us to try to make this work.

It's not like we were living in the lap of luxury. Together we made only about $60k a year. Another $5k+ went towards medical bills due to his not-so-ideal health insurance and my many physical and mental health issues and another several thousand goes to help my daughter who currently can't work due to medical issues.

With the change, we technically went to just over the poverty level. I really think we can build it to the point we'll have enough to live on.

But with the transition, it became time to sell some of the things that I've been thinking about selling for a while - to help pad our income until we can figure things out on making a living doing this.

Some were no-brainers... the laptop I never use but kept for a backup, the camera that I never used but also kept for a backup, some small camera accessories, etc. 

Then there was another item that I had been wanting to sell for a while, but also kept it "just in case." If you follow any decluttering site, one common thing they tell you is to ask yourself if it's something that brings joy, or conversely, does it make you feel guilty when you think about it. This definitely qualified under the guilt category.

It was my studio set. It was one of the first things I bought for my business and with every accessory or new backdrop, my dreams got bigger and bigger about how it could be used. 

However, I live in a very tiny space and all of those backdrops took up a lot of room. The backdrop stands didn't take up much room, but the case I bought for them (and the backdrop I was using on a shoot), took up one large shelf by itself.

However, over the years, I only used it a few times. Then I got practical and bought a t-shaped stand with a popout smaller backdrop. It does the job well for headshots or couples and is much, much easier to store, transport, and setup. 

So it was this item that made the most sense to sell as it was the most unlikely to need in the future and it by far created more space once it was gone.

I listed it, half thinking that it would probably never sell. Though we needed the money, I kept my expectations low.  

Then one day, I got a serious inquiry. Someone wanted to buy it!

I quickly found out that I was more attached to it than I thought. Though the money from the sale would really help with that month's bills, there was a part of me that hoped it wouldn't go through.

As I pondered this irrational thought, I remembered another time this kind of thing happened. When my daughter was young, I bought her a used swingset. It was the focal point of play whenever her friends came over. It was a cherished item for years, even after the time she broke her wrist while doing a trick on it.

However, it was a bear to mow around. I didn't have, and couldn't afford, a weed eater. So I would try to get as close as possible with the lawn mower. I did a decent job and it looked okay, but it took time that I would have much rather spent doing other things.

After two or three years went by without her using it, I knew it was time for it to have a new home. I listed it for free on Craigslist (think of it as the original Facebook Marketplace) and was excited about getting it out of the yard.

It took no time before someone let me know he wanted it. He couldn't afford to buy one for his young children and was thrilled that he found one for free. He planned to come and pick it up the following weekend.

My social anxiety makes it difficult to talk to people in these situations (which is partially why I didn't sell it - I would have had to interact to get the cash as this was before Venmo and CashApp). So, he told me when he would be there and I hid in the house while he took it apart to take to his children.

I did, though, peek out the window to see his progress and so I would know when I was free to go outside without having to talk to someone.

As I looked, I was blown away by the emotions that overwhelmed me, as I started to cry hysterically. 

It was simply an unused, in-the-way swingset on the surface, but emotionally, it was the dream of having more children leaving in pieces on that truck.

When I met the man and his wife to do the transaction for the studio kit sale, I felt similarly. It was different in that I knew I would still do photography, but it hit some of those same emotions with all of the hopes and dreams I had those early days of doing this business leaving in the couples' truck.

I try to tell myself the memories are still there - and in both instances the hopes and dreams have morphed into different and better hopes and dreams - but even now, there's just a little bit of sadness about those times of my life that are now gone forever.

Categorizing Music

On the surface, this topic has absolutely nothing to do with stigmas. But read until the end and you'll see why this was included in this particular blog.

One day recently I was listening to the radio. My husband and I are now driving a new-to-us car and we haven't figured out the radio system yet, so we were testing different methods to find out the easiest way to program and access our favorite stations.

Some of the stations we ran across were obvious - a popular song from the 70s was pretty indicative of an oldies channel; a twangy sound was most likely the local country channel; the mellow speaking voice meant it was probably NPR or a local talk radio show.

But some were harder to guess. Sometimes the lines blurred. A pop rock sound could be a contemporary Christian channel or a latest hits station. Modern country can be confused with some types of old-school rock. Even what seems to obviously be NPR, could potentially be news.

It made me think - where is the line drawn. Just how "twangy" does a song have to be to be classified as country? How loud and raucous does a song have to be to be classified as hard rock? And when does a current hit finally evolve into an "oldie"?

(Funny sideline story... one night I was driving in northern Alabama after visiting my family. I was a little sleepy and was scanning the scarce channels to find something I liked that would help me stay awake. I finally came across a song I loved and sang along happily... 

That is, until I heard, "That was [insert name of a band] and this is the Oldies Channel!" It was one of the first indicators that I was actually old and it struck me harder than I would have imagined.)

Back to categorizing music...

Who comes up with the dividing lines? Is it the artist, the agent, the promotor, or the public? 

When an artist "crosses over" it usually means a jump from one confining category to another. Examples are a Latin singer becoming mainstream or a Christian artist being played in with Top 40 hits.

But what if, as mentioned in the second example, there was no dedicated Christian channel in the first place? There would be no need to try to break out of the shell of only playing to a Christian audience. Non-Christians would have to listen to Christian music and vice-versa. 

There would be no opposition, no polarization, no stigma of being "only a Christian band" (a possible sentiment of the non-Christians) or being "only a secular band" (a possible sentiment of the Christians).

I don't have an answer... I just thought it was an interesting question. But I do happen to think that if this was true, like Louis Armstrong said, "What a wonderful world."

   

Racial Stigma - Sadly, One I Haven't Thought Much About

A couple of weeks ago, I attended a conference in Birmingham, AL called "There IS a Balm in Gilead." It was to commemorate the 60th anniversary of the Sixteenth Street Baptist Church bombing. 

Growing up in Birmingham, I have seen both sides of racial discrimination. It's still hard to believe how long segregation persisted in this southern city. I have met many black people who weren't able to get the job they wanted due to their race.

But on the flip side, my dad was also directly impacted by discrimination, being passed over for a big promotion in the Birmingham Fire Department by an unqualified black man.

A little over two years ago, I had the great privilege of interviewing Barbara Cross, one of the children of Reverend John Cross, the pastor of Sixteenth Street Baptist. She lived through the bombing and was able to forgive those who did it.

You can read the article I wrote on the Alabama Baptist newspaper's website at  https://thealabamabaptist.org/her-most-devastating-day-pointed-her-to-the-love-that-forgives/. 

When I found out about the conference, I thought of Barbara and wondered how she was doing. I was able to talk to her briefly which resulted in an update of the original article, found here: https://thealabamabaptist.org/60-years-later-pastors-daughter-recalls-16th-street-baptist-church-bombing/.

Due to some scheduling issues, I wasn't able to attend many sessions at the conference but what I learned resulted in a deep shame. 

Over the past few years, I have written about many stigmas related to many different groups - those with mental or physical health issues, those with religious biases, those with stereotypes concerning weight, as well as some others.

Not once did I write about racial stigmas and stereotypes. It's still hard to believe that it never occurred to me to write about one of the most impactful issues of our generation.

Anyway, I'm hoping to write about the other workshops I was able to attend at some point in the future, but I was able to write and submit an article featuring the main keynote who spoke at the last session at the conference - Dr. Tony Evans.

 It was published today. It's well worth the read - not because I wrote it and I'm amazing, but because he had some excellent points, some I had never thought about.

You can find it at https://thealabamabaptist.org/tony-evans-speaks-at-anniversary-event-there-is-a-balm-in-gilead/. 

Look for more posts from this conference in the weeks to come.

Letting Go of Perfectionism

I recognized that I had perfectionistic tendencies when I was pretty young. However, I thought that was a good thing. I thought that being perfect was what everyone should aspire to.

These issues early on may have affected others, but I didn't realize. Looking back, even though I know that my perfectionism (when I achieved it, that is) probably made me too standoffish to really be friends with, it was what it did to me that was the biggest problem.

If I wasn't perfect, I had no worth. Second place wasn't good enough - I had to get first. The shame of not doing well in a piano lesson was almost too much to bear. My stomach hurt every... single... Sunday night - because I was terrified I had forgotten some homework or to study for a test.

In adulthood, friends and family were the ones who clued me in that it wasn't actually a positive trait. 

Some examples of it interfering with my life included...

- not letting others come to my house unless it was absolutely spotless,

- not allowing anyone to see my newborn baby until I was dressed and had full make-up on,

- not sharing things I was good at, but not perfect at, with others.

And that's just the tip of the iceberg.

So what I did was actively combat being a perfectionist. It wasn't easy.

I did things like actively leaving the dishes in the sink instead of washing them and putting them away. Letting my hair get a little greasy before I washed it. (I still couldn't let it go too long.) I actually started leaving the house without make-up (I know - gasp!)

Those types of activities helped to tame my perfectionism - to an extent. I still see it rearing its ugly head when my reputation is at stake. 

Photography and writing are examples. 

I can't make grammar or spelling errors in emails and texts, because someone might think I don't know what I'm doing with words. I can't post unedited photos on Instagram because they aren't, well, perfect.

But I'm trying. I want to get rid of this trait because I know that it really does affect my relationships - with others and with myself. 

So, I'll finish this so I can try to actively ignore the floor that desperately needs to be vacuumed. Keep in mind that I'm not lazy... I'm working on my mental health.

Why Can't I Simply Be Like "They"?

"They" come in smiling and laughing. "They" greet each other with lots of how-are-you's and introductions. "They" giggle when they mess up on their name tags. 

"They" hug people who were perfect strangers five minutes before. "They" take a seat right next to each other and pay close attention when the speaker starts. "They" don't need anything to fidget with in order to make it through the meeting.

I'm nothing like "they."

Today was a huge example of this.

I guess it started last night. My husband and I had a big fight that I'm "not his boss" (though I kind of am currently since he recently joined me in the freelancing business I've had for about 7 years).

Add to that, it's been a rough morning. Things that should have only taken a few minutes took much longer. When I washed my hair, I pulled out one of my earrings - into the murky water of my bubble-bath-infused tub. There were a couple of packages I needed to drop in a UPS dropbox that I had to get ready.

And then I forgot I needed to get gas so I was running late. Aaaarrrrggggghhhh!

This was all on top of feeling cruddy due to not sleeping well, hurting a lot from a fibromyalgia flare-up, and fighting being in a low/depressed cycle with my bipolar. 

There was only one reason I decided to go even the way I felt - to see a really good friend of mine who leads the group.  Due to our crazy schedules, we haven't been able to get together in a while and I was looking forward to seeing her.

I got there... and quickly realized she wasn't there. 

It made the social anxiety I deal with amplify to incredible levels. I'm not a good actor on the best day - and it definitely wasn't a "best day." When I saw "they" do their thing, I didn't have the energy or motivation to even try to pretend.

I sometimes wonder why I can't be that way - smiling and greeting everyone, asking "How are you?" as a substitute for simply saying "Hi," sitting right beside someone I've never met.

When I step back and look at it, I know that it's my social anxiety (as well as the many other mental health issues I deal with) that makes all of this so difficult. 

But honestly, it's also because in my soul, I actually don't want to be like "they."

When I smile or laugh, I want it to be because I'm happy. When I ask, "How are you?" I want to care about the answer. When I hug someone, I want it to be because I like/love them. 

I don't want any of this to be forced due to social obligation.

But, at the same time, I wish I could conform. It hurts to be left out. It's easy to feel "less than" when everyone around me is well put together, with nice clothes, hair, makeup and an easy smile.

Something strange has been happening lately, though. 

People I'm around actually seem to like me (even though I can't do all the shiny, happy stuff). I was specifically asked to share some things about myself to the group (even though I'm nothing remarkable). I was complimented on what I wrote on my name tag ("Tracy - here but only barely").

Maybe... just maybe... it's okay that I'm not like "they" after all. Maybe it's okay to be me.