Tossed Salads and Scrambled Eggs

Goodnight everybody!

Have you ever had one of those days where you were gifted with so much attention, or positive input, you hardly knew what to do with yourself? Attention that you have not sought after with any type of vigor?…and if I can say this correctly, that you are somewhat frightened to receive?

I had one of those days yesterday, here on Substack. It was truly amazing. I was amazed like the girl in the back of the class that finally gets called on.

The reason it scares me is because by the end of the day I received an “accidental subscriber,” an “oops this one’s definitely not for me” moment. I typically scan my gmail every evening, deleting hundreds of junk and advertising emails that have not heard me yell “I unsubscribed from you!”

I don’t believe there has ever been a time in my life and career, as a former teen SAG actress, pro-photographer, or friend, that I haven’t received, within the same day an over-amount of praise and then a gauntlet. It’s normal.

The more I feel “seen” the more I am reminded to continue to be myself and not get too caught up in it. If one friend loves me, another long-time friend was bound to leave me. Same day. If any attention came my way with the television thing, I was bound to receive the news my boyfriend didn’t like me anymore, my grades sucked and my parents weren’t happy with me. Same day. If my clients were thrilled with my photography work, blew up images for their offices in L.A., surely a contest or magazine submission would be critiqued and torn apart. Same day.

What I’m also saying is.. despite those accomplishments I am most usually under the radar (on purpose) of any attention whatsoever in the socials or life circles…. so when it comes I feel like the little immigrant girl sitting on my own in second grade eating my mashed banana and butter sandwich when suddenly, in my wildest of dreams, a slew of interested peers come along and curiously crave a bite. (that never happened)

When I say attention, I mean, more than a few likes or comments. Like a 20% increase.

One minute you’re up, running well, and the next minute you are running through your head in a rejected sort of way, dodging sticks, wondering what is wrong with you? That’s the devil on one shoulder outweighing the light on the other.

I will say that I absolutely love the writing of my reluctant subscriber and I thought “how could my day end any better?” as I announced to my husband. The day began with me making a comment to a very amazing and well published writer, who ended up not just following me, but also promoting my writing on his own site. What connected us was how much we had in common and our love of Jesus centered over our life.

After reading many bios of writers in the past few weeks I will say that I have subscribed to a huge tossed salad with some scrambled eggs thrown in. When you love God with all your heart, soul, mind and strength, you are generally interested in people from all walks of life. But not to assume many are not as interested in you. For the most part I really like the diversity that our world speaks of (over and over again). Creation is miraculous. We are miraculous. You are miraculous.

I try not to get too caught up in what others think because in the end not one of us truly thinks alike. We don’t paint alike, write alike, feel music the same way, see the same images in our mind, nor, a BIG nor, we don't spend 100% of the time living with our opinions of the world. Many people have lived experiences that cannot be taken away from them. We must accept that. If I speak of my love of Jesus or my own personal will of medical “choice” or how I believe that human suffering is everywhere and that acknowledging that collectively is important, or that history is important for learning and developing, etc., or if I have an opinion on what I think is happening to sea life or the homeless and mentally ill, from research, or experience, then that’s okay. It’s all okay. You’re okay too. Do you. I’ll do me.

It’s also okay if you don’t have room for me. Most socials, like my own, have followers that I never engage with. I’m one of those followers and many follow me. It’s silent and that’s okay. We either came to that landing space a long time ago, i.e., “friends” on Facebook from 2005 and we have no clue who each other is anymore… or the social account is an “influencer” or rock star, so we follow the mostly unrealistic real snippets of their life, sometimes cheering them on, knowing the chances they will see our comment is very slim. Most of these accounts have managers.

In my relatively new landing space of Substack, I am finding it’s very similar to most social accounts and their topics. Within similar writing genres, there are writers, for the most part that you follow, read, comment, and no matter how big or small their platform is, or how educated and published they are, or aren’t, they genuinely try to keep up with their readers, and are often interested in your writing as well. They might follow you back, subscribe, or not, and that’s okay. Then there are those who are working from a more educated, experienced writing platform. They seek similar topics, writers and backgrounds. There are also “just the leaders..” not the followers. Then there are the eclectic writers, like me, that are writing what comes to mind. I genuinely understand and love the mixed bag. It was this way in photography as well.

Eventually you find “your people” while appreciating all kinds of people. I found a writer yesterday morning, with a heart similar to my own, and that is the point. We also have Formula 1 and photography in common. Check him out

Alexander Semenyuk

from Lighthouse.

I think we do ourselves a favor when we’re honest and my reluctant reader was just that. I wrote to the reluctant email subscriber thanking them for the subscription but that I could not find it on my Substack subscriber list. I received an honest reply back. They looked. They made a mistake. The reason I followed this writer is I felt I could learn a lot about the art of writing and the style resonated with my own mom’s style of writing, which can be a bit fun and tantalizing! It put a huge smile on my face.

At the same time, and back to how my day began, I was humbled. I saw this as the classroom of my life. The Teacher with His hand on my shoulder nudging me forward, in gratitude, (despite my self-fulfilled Niles-like giddiness yesterday morning), pulling me back with humility before bedtime.

Goodnight Substack, I love you.
Deborah has left the building.
Scrambled eggs all over my face...