I went through a fairly difficult divorce, at an age which hindsight has taught me was probably too young to be married in the first place, and I realized that my own desire to have what I thought society had labeled as “all,” was largely responsible for the mess I found myself in.
I’d gotten married to a person I didn’t fully love because he seemed like the kind of person I could rely on and I guess I believed that such reliance would surely lead to all the essentials of a happy marriage, happy wife, happy life. I became a wedding photographer because I thought that my lifelong love of photography would translate into a dream job; great income, flexibility, creative freedom, free cake on the weekends. I was living in a several-story house on a quiet street, in a quaint town with the keys to my own shiny Volkswagen. I had the metaphorical “white picket fence.” And almost every day I drove home from some appointment, event or errand, I would fantasize about driving off the bridge I had to cross, hoping that I might succeed in finding a way out of the dead end I found myself in. A place that made me feel like I was drowning rather than enjoying the spoils of marriage,career and suburban perfection. I eventually saw the frailty in thinking behind every decision I had made. I married someone I didn’t love because I didn’t want to be alone. I became a wedding…
