“I’m sorry. I have this effect on people,” I say as my photography instructor’s head drops to the desk and she holds onto it like it’s cracking. It’s the last day of the class. I’ve asked for help with my final photo project which now fills my computer screen in a convoluted overworked mess. She is speechless so I continue.
“I don’t know why I always have to make things more complicated.” She pulls herself together and resolves my problem in a couple of clicks on the computer. “Why can’t I just go easy on myself once in a while?” I whine.
Days later, for this week’s blog I photo-shop an intricate scene, triplicating a green heron on the pond, and importing and laboring lovingly over a two-layered background of flowering shrubs. And then I decide to include the almost-untouched original shot, which could have worked as well on its own. There’s a terrific compulsion to work until I can’t see straight and everyone else around me drops from exhaustion. Is what I do ever going to be good enough?
It may not be perfect this time. But I will allow myself to feel satisfied. It’s not quite nine o’clock and I’m going to hug the dog, lay low, think positive thoughts and paint my toenails.
How do you complicate your life?
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