The first time I got into the pool, I said out loud, “This is my dream. I am literally living my dream.”
And then, “Bitch, I manifested this shit.”
I grew up in a trailer. Now I was staying in a house with a pool, a hot tub, a sauna, and a gym, looking after three incredibly chill dogs. I was having a hard time comprehending that I actually got to be there. Like, this was where I was going to wake up for the next several days. This was my life right now.
I had just turned 26. Washington, DC had been the opening chapter of this project, and North Carolina was my first state. I was beginning something I wanted to spend the next few years doing, even though a lot of my life still felt very uncertain.
House-sitting was making it possible. I could care for someone's animals and home while they were away, and have somewhere to live in return. There were still bills and galleries to finish and money to figure out. But I had somewhere to land. After the months I'd had, that meant a lot.
I was also really sad.
I was grieving my relationship and the life I thought I was going to have. There is so much wrapped up in losing a relationship when your work and your plans have been built around it too. I was trying to figure out what my own life looked like now, while still missing pieces of the one that had fallen apart.
At this house, I finally had enough room to feel some of it.
The dogs were such easy company. I could walk all three at once, which I loved. On our morning walks, I listened to an audiobook about emotionally neglectful parenting and started putting words to things I'd been trying to understand about my childhood and my relationship with my mom.
Some of it was hard to hear because it felt familiar. There was also relief in hearing someone explain something I'd struggled to explain myself.
I was beginning to notice how much guilt came up when I did something for my own wellbeing. I could be doing something completely harmless, something that made me happy, and still have this feeling that I was being selfish. I wanted to take care of myself without having to make a case for why I deserved it.
One day I stayed inside and watched movies. Barely did anything. And I was trying to let that be okay.
Which sounds easy when I write it down. But when you're worried about money and work and whether you're doing enough to make your life work, relaxing can feel irresponsible. Even in this beautiful house, there was a part of me keeping track of everything I could have been accomplishing.
I needed rest. I was learning how to actually let myself have it.
I missed my own dogs, too. Being around other people's animals was comforting, and I still wanted mine. That was part of being here as well. I could be grateful for the house and the dogs I was caring for and still be missing home in ways that were difficult to untangle.
Somewhere during that stay, I started wanting to make things for myself again.
I did two self-portrait shoots just for fun. I had ideas, I had a camera, and I wanted to see what I could make. There was nobody waiting for the images. I could spend time trying something because it interested me.
Even that brought up guilt. Photographing myself felt self-indulgent in a way that photographing someone else never does. I spend so much of my life paying attention to other people, and somehow turning that attention toward myself needed an explanation.
I did it anyway. And finishing those shoots felt really good. I had taken an idea out of my head and made something I could look at. I felt more excited about creating afterward. I want to remember that feeling when I start treating everything I love like another obligation.
During this stay, I also booked a dream wedding in Colorado for May. I had something on the calendar that combined the work I love with a place I wanted to go. I was still figuring out the immediate future, and suddenly there was this really good thing waiting farther ahead.
That's what I keep coming back to about the pool house. So much was hurting, and I was also happy to be there. I was enjoying something I'd wanted for a long time while still grieving a future I'd wanted too.
When I left on September 1, I felt excited for what was next. I had rested, made photographs, taken care of the dogs, and started paying attention to what I needed. I wanted to see what another house, and another few weeks of living this way, might feel like.
