Carriage Barn Window

For the past few years, I’ve recorded most of the important events of my life on the blog, a living record of my strange and curious trek. Today was an important day. I did something that was both frightening and painful, and it was necessary to do because it was part of being a grown-up. It is personal, not something to reveal here.

It meant a great deal to me, and took me a long time to do. It was a statement that my life is important, and I will not give pieces of it away, and I will protect it and do the things that adults do to take care of themselves.

On the surface, it seems obvious that people have to grow up, but for me, one of many people whose childhoods were interrupted by trauma and trouble, it has not been so simple. I remained a child long past childhood’s time passing my frights and responsibilities onto other people.

I was confused about money, lost perspective, was disconnected from reality. And when the mask came off, it scared the hell out of me. Enough to get me growing up, and quickly. I work hard at it, every day.

It has taken me a long time to grasp the idea of growing up, even longer to do it. And I am not quite there yet. I have come to see that  it is frightening to remain a child, to not know the details of your life, or to be able to stand up for it. To know your life, to understand it, is to be unafraid, because it means you know you can take care of yourself. Many times in recent years, I’ve felt like a six-year-old kid with a farm and a book contract.

I felt often that I had given myself away, and there wasn’t much left. I had no idea who I was, and am still puzzling over it. Grown-ups know these things, I thing. I’ve had a lot of catching up to do, and it is enthralling, frightening, exhausting and exhilarating.

I’ve needed to grow up, and fast. The farm helped me do it. So does Maria. So did a therapist. And some good friends. So, curiously, did my photography which somehow, in ways I think I will never quite grasp, permitted me to see my life and the world more clearly as I live it now. Perhaps that is Zen photography. I am lucky to have the opportunity to grow up.

It is hard enough to do when you are supposed to do it, rougher later on. But essential. Life depends on it.

So I took a big and scary step towards growing up today. And it feels good.

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At 7 p.m. Thursday, Mary Kellogg and I will be at the Red Fox Bookstore in Glens Falls, N.Y. (518 793 5352). Mary will be reading from her new book “Whistling Woman,” which also includes some of my photographs. I will be available to sign books too. Mary is a treasure, and come and see her if you can.