"It's the Hard Days that Count"

"It's the hard days that count"

Weightlifting has become a hobby that I really enjoy
I stopped doing Crossfit regularly as it was doing a little more damage than good for my mental health (and body) but have found a fun rhythm with this sport

There are things in life that I will always have to deal with-

-The fact that Girl Meets World was not nearly as impactful as Boy Meets World.

-There is not a bra that truly accommodates women who were pregnant or nursing for 6 years straight and fluctuated 50-70 pounds in those years.

-As a recovering self-mutilator, I have tendencies to use pain as a distraction or coping mechanism, and find an addictive comfort in it's regularity.

That last bit is not a sentence that most people want to hear from someone who is well known for working with families and children. It's not lightly joking about alcoholism or sexual depravity, but addresses a real problem without irreverence.

Because of this tendency, I have a habit of allowing myself to get banged up during my lifting sessions. Bruises on my thighs and collar bones, and ripped hands are acceptable injuries in the context of the environment. No one on the inside of Crossfit boxes or barbell clubs question whether or not we just tolerate these bumps and scrapes (or, more, enjoy them.)

Well today was one of those deep thinker, grind it out because everything freaking hurts sessions.

Keeping the bar close to my body, making contact at the top of the pull of a snatch or clean, returning a jerk, every second of bar contact hurt because it was going over previous injuries and I could "hear" my coach in my head say that if I didn't let myself get so banged up, I wouldn't have this problem. (Except, he would use many more expletives, duh.)

There are two conclusions that I came to today on the ride home-

1) It's the hard days that count, for sure. Today was not the day to say "Screw it, this is hard, go home" because who knows what I'll feel like on competition days?! Who knows what personal crap I'll have off the platform begging for my attention- learning to deal with that adversity now can only improve my mental fortitude

BUT ALSO

2) How often are the "hard days" we face the culmination of bad and destructive habits we've allowed ourselves to slip into? How often are we fighting for our children's attention when we've resulted to letting the tv babysit them? How many times are we yelling at our kids to stop yelling at eachother and realize (oh crap, I'm yelling at them!) How often could we bare the load of a heavy day had we prepared ourselves for it with consistent, focused, peaceful practices?

It's the hard days that build character, but preparing for them is half the work.

Disclaimer-
Every time I'm vulnerable about this area of my life, I get well-meaning, concerned emails from mothers and fathers all over the world trying to figure out what to do with their teen who cuts. While my heart goes out to each family struggling with it- I am not a professional. I have my own personal testimony of how God saved me from that habit, but I am not here to give you advice or direction. I hope that in sharing my story, you will see that there is hope for your teen (or yourself!) but at this point in my life, this is all I can offer.

Thoughts on a Curated Life

Last week on Valentine's Day, my adoring husband posted a picture of me on his Instagram account wishing me a happy day. It was the most unflattering image I've seen of myself in a long time- DEFINITELY not something I would have posted myself. And, like a diva, I got a little bit upset! Like.."wth, I didn't even get a card, but I got a crappy picture of me posted by you...THANKS." (insert sarcasm font here) And he shot back that he didn't want his memories of me to be whatever curated, flawless images I put of myself out there, but he wants to remember my bored face making dinner, my overflowing mum-tum when I'm bent over tying shoes, or whatever else I don't see that he does.

FINE. sure...
(more sarcasm font needed here.)

Fastforward to yesterday-
Eamon was off work for Presiden'ts Day and it was relatively sunny out, so we took the girls to the beach. It's still too cold for my liking, and the girls mostly spent their time digging in the sand, but it was nice to be out. Eamon sat and read and I noticed that in the sand we were sitting on were all of these pretty little pink rocks.

I started a tiny collection of pebbles and Eamon and Lily joined in on the obsessive picking.
 

I could not separate the task I had set myself to from the reminder that we are constantly subjected to this type of curation day by day through social media.

Our lives are a hodgepodge concoction of white, pink, black and yellow pebbles, all tossed together in beautiful chaos- but our Instagrams and Facebook posts can easily make it seem like ours lives are/should be all rose-colored, all dark, or all bright and sunny.

While I believe God gives us different talents and gifts, circumstances and trials, and the ability to share the stories we acquire with them- it's irresponsible for us to look at these images and posts and think "Ugh...I wish I lived next to a beach with all pink rocks" (or a life without dirty diapers, or with six-pack abs, or on a farm as a baby goat doula...#reallifedream) And we're just as responsible on the posting side of things! How crappy would it be if I just showed the image of the pink rocks above and said "Come to Rockport for a family session and let your little ones play on the pink sand with me!!!" and come to find this- playground sand that the beach uses to keep the erosion down. Hella shady.

Friends, we can curate and consume responsibly-
YES- Offer up some rosey thoughts and images to brighten up the days of our friends in dark places- bring some sunshine to those who have seen weeks of rain, but let us not misrepresent or assume in such a way that leaves us feeling worse than when we opened up our apps.

Getting to Know Rockport Family Photographer Mae Burke

It's so good to see so many new faces on my Instagram and Facebook page, Welcome!

I know that many of you are here because you saw my small contribution to Click Away during Ginger Unzueta's talk, and while I'm bummed I couldn't be there to hug you and teach myself as was planned, I'm so grateful for the opportunity to be a part of it in some small way.

Here are three things you probably already knew:
-My name is Mae Burke
-I'm a family photographer in Rockport, Texas
-I usually have 1-3 children under my feet (often times more, because... it's unexplainable really...)

Here are five things you probably didn't know
-I am equal parts Mary Crowley, Leslie Knope, and Peggy Olsen (with a dash of Selena)
-I can speak way more German than I can Spanish (which isn't saying much, on either account!)
-I have lived on the Texas Coast almost the entirety of my life and have yet to go surfing.
-I have had images on two major morning news shows and was REALLY DISAPPOINTED when my Skype calls with them were bumped for something else.
-I have seen every episode of every season of Boy Meets World, Dawson's Creek, Lost, and The Office at least six times over... I fall asleep if I read for leisure, people!

I have been in business, photographing families, falling in love with the connection between mothers and their loved ones, for nearly eight years. I have been mentoring other photographers on how to do the same (in their own beautiful way) for the past five. I built my client base in the DFW Metroplex and returned to my hometown of Rockport, Texas just a few short weeks after my third baby was born. I am forever grateful for each and every family who let's me into their home or meets me out at the park or beach and allows me to share their story. I am encouraged as a mother and wife, and affirmed as an artist.

Thank you all for being here.