Let's compare.

There is something in the photography world called 'imposter syndrome'. I'm sure it runs around other medias as well, but man it is aggressive in this trade. This week is the beginning of a very popular international photo competition and I've seen so many phenomenally skilled photographers that just can't escape the feeling of inadequacy.

Social media has made it a constant reminder of how far you still have to go until you 'make it'- photography or otherwise. Or, even better, are you even a *insert title here* at all? You are an imposter because you don't know as much or edit as well as another.


Compare, compare, compare.


Staaaahhhp.


I'm guilty of it, too. Don't get me wrong. And that got me thinking.


If we stopped creating because there was someone better, what would be left? What good is it to cease to exist because others are existing?


Why is it so hard to sit with ourselves, just as we are, appreciating the imperfections of what our life or our work is 'supposed' to be at right now?


You may be asking where I'm going with this, and truth be told, I'm not sure. But I had all of these thoughts swimming around my head when we headed down to Kansas for my Grandmother's funeral. She was never about perfection. Just doing your best. So I wanted to take pictures on the trip but instead of finding 'perfection' in my shots, I wanted to embrace the imperfect details.



Because there are wipes in my baby's picture, it does not make it any less meaningful than one without. (She's still cute.)




Because my daughter had to be photoshopped into the sod house after the fact (I didn't have Little House On the Prairie outfit handy until we got home)- it doesn't make it any less magical.



Because the railroad lights are simple, it doesn't make it any less beautiful.



Because my skin isn't perfect, it doesn't mean I shouldn't get in the frame.




What you create is not nearly as important as the fact that you are creating.


And don't let strangers on the internet dictate your self worth, homies.






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