meiratz

[meiratz]

We lived in Wyoming in 2018.  I said: "I bought us a jewelry making class next week."  He said: "hmmm?"  We went to class.  He made the hardest thing and enjoyed every step.  I said "I am buying jewelry from now on and never going to make my own ever again. That was entirely too hard."  He said: "hmmm"  We lived in Arizona in 2019.  I said: "We are going to The Ghost Ranch in New Mexico. I've signed you up for a silversmithing class."  He said "hmmm?"  We went to The Ghost Ranch.  I didn't see sam for 6 days except when he would fall into bed exhausted and covered in thin dust of silver from the day in the studio.  By the end, we were buying hammers and plotting how to acquire an anvil.  Then 2020 took hold of us.  We had a baby.  We stayed inside.  We learned what quiet was.  We felt fear.  We felt loneliness.  We felt joy in places we hadn't before.  We gathered with the ones we could.  We bought hammers and let go of the idea of an anvil (those suckers are expensive!) We kissed the baby.  He started hammering and sawing and turned the fire on.  The garage turned into The Shop.  The knick-knack-rack has turned into a jewelry holder.  These last few months have been the land of experiments and "let's try it!"  These pieces are the tangible expressions of what 2020 has been.  These pieces are for the brave.  These pieces are for the long drives.  These pieces are for trying again.  These pieces are for hard conversations.  These pieces are for flow.  These pieces are for celebrating how far you have come.  These pieces are a Thank You and I love you.  These pieces are about finding yourself among the rubble. 

[meiratz]

To my his mom and sisters,

It has taken me the better part of a decade to write this letter to you. It’s what I hope you remember when you think of us.  It’s what I hope you know when you worry about him finding another partner.

This is the story of why I asked him for change, this is the letter and the story. This is a thank you ten thousand times for sharing him and for taking his hand when I had to let it drop from my own.

And to you, my love, this is a letter to you to remind you that we were real, to tell you; you don’t pay any rent in my heart and soul, and always a thank you for the impact and life you gave me, built with me, and showed me. I fell hard in love with you, I loved you for real, I love you, always. Xo.

It’s for all of you, but maybe it is also for me. It’s for me for all the same reasons it is for you. Because we walked alongside one another for a while and will be forever changed because of it.

--- Chapter 1 - His smile

I knew from the second date we went on that I was going to marry him.

I knew because of how he laughs, how quick his wit is, how quickly he listened to my story and shared his own, how tightly he hugs his mom and how he instantly gets on the floor to spend time with his nieces. And his smile. And his smile. And his smile. And his smile.

Over the course of our relationship, I learned his smile and his laugh were outward expressions of the immense kindness and courage he leads with. He drives his tall ship with kindness as his figurehead. We had banter that still makes me laugh when I remember it. He showed me music I still shake my hips to. He rolled his sleeves up after a long day of work to help me put on art shows.

He asked me to marry him underneath a sky filled with bald eagles and Pacific northwestern stars.

We got a little fluffy on Portland food together. We made each other laugh. We went to the edges of our comfort zones for and with each other. He shared his friends with me. He made room for my friends. He went to vacations with my family. He had jokes with my brother that still continue. He survived a juice cleanse with me. He met me in Copenhagen and picked me up in Rome.

We got married in a field of sagebrush and lupine under the grand Tetons gaze. We went to bed that night and as he drifted to sleep he said one of the most hauntingly intimate things I ever heard from him “this was the best day of my life.”

I asked him to marry me many times. There was a sticky note on our fridge that said: “Marry Mei today?”

I thought marriage was leveling up new language on how much you loved, admired and believed in someone. If that was what marriage was built to be, I was ready for many many years.

But then he asked me to marry him and I felt terror.

Chapter 2 - Terror

I felt absolute terror.

And i wasn’t quiet about it. I was loud.

I asked everyone if this was what it was supposed to feel like.

Everyone told me it was cold feet and asked me what my dress looked like.

I asked him “How do you know we are going to be okay through this?”

And he said to me “if you think about it that way, we won’t be.”

And maybe I am the one who manifested our end into being with my worries.

Maybe I am.

But I don’t think so.

We were built on solid rock. And then we weren’t.

Chapter 3 - Jump cuts

How did it happen? I don’t know.

But these are the events I see so clearly in my mind:

That fight when I exasperatedly told him I was never going to be a woman like his mom. He looked at me like I had just thrown a baby under a moving bus. Like he could not believe I had just said that.

The night I picked him up from that corner in NE Portland from the cops. I pitched my wedding dress, fresh from getting altered, into the back to make room for his crashed bike. I thanked the officers for not taking him to jail to dry out and as we drove home all I could think was “What is this? What is he trying to process but can’t tell me out loud?”

That day I married him and fell head over heels in love with him again. All I could see was him. I just felt so dang proud of him.

Crying in the Detroit airport as it washed over me that I wanted to change and move and grow and that that growth might hurt him if he didn’t want to do it with me.

The evening when I sat on couch and said “please, know that my thesis is partly for school but it is mostly to show you how I’ve changed and the life/career changes I am excited to make” and he said to me  “I can’t wait for this to be over and to have my wife back” The fall and winter when he decided to not come home.

The celebration we had when he got that dream job.  

The look in his eye when he came home from the job that was exactly in line with his life, his mission, his wants, and his loves. And I knew it was where he came alive. And I made a vow to myself that I would do everything in my power to make sure he had a clear path to that aliveness.

The day he said “stop changing in ways that affect me, you’re being too much”

and his fear quieted me.

The afternoon in her living room when we told her he would be in Italy for 3 months and I would stay in the states and she said “what kind of marriage is that anyway?” and I saw her fear quiet him. I saw it tell him “what kind of husband are you? Leaving your wife for months to pursue a job that makes you happy? That’s not a good enough reason.” I saw it shame him.

And I thought about that vow to clear a path to that aliveness and committed 10 fold.

Chapter 4 - “Love you”

The day I drove away knowing I wouldn’t see him for 6 months because I was going to find a “regular” job that would pay me enough money to support us both and so that he would not have to sacrifice his dream. I knew the clock was ticking before he would give it all up to be a “good husband” with his “too much” wife.

I couldn’t find that job.

I applied to 453 jobs.

I had 2 interviews.

I begged to get them.

I didn’t get either of them.

I thought about selling my eggs - “I’m half Asian, they will pay more for those. He never has to know. The money will get us through till I find the job”

I borrowed a lot of money from my family to feel and seem stable. (I am constantly thankful for that grace and support.)

I went to therapy every week for 6 months.

I found a postcard 4 years later from that time where he wrote: “From Instagram, your life looks like you’re doing so well, love you.”

Under the Grand Teton in the sage that day I promised to carry the headlight in the darkest moments, to ask the hardest questions and to always make choices in the best interest of us both living the best lives we possibly could.

Chapter 5 - Alone together

I sat in the back of the room as my friend married his wife. I was only half paying attention until the last lines of his vows to her were “I love you now and when you grow and change, I can’t wait to love you then.” and I slipped out the back door to cry into my knees in the stairwell.

That’s what I wanted. To be loved through my changes. To be encouraged to change. And to give the space for him to change and grow. I was fighting for both of us to feel like we could change.

And I felt the most alone in that mission I have ever felt in my life.

Chapter 6 - The audit

He felt like a failure because he was going against everything he was taught was being a good husband.

I felt alone because I wanted to be a good partner and that required a full-time job that paid $100k/yr

The stress of looking for that job gave me anxiety attacks, an eating disorder and erratic sleeping patterns.

I felt unseen and unheard in my cries for help

I was too much for the person I loved more than anything and I didn’t know how to dim my light soft enough to fit the mold needed to support us.

Chapter 7 - Perfect

We were perfect.

I was an artist who was driving so hard for a job in corporate America.

He was an adventurer who spent most of his life-changing people's lives.

I lived in Seattle.

He lived on the coastlines of Italy and Croatia.

We had a perfect wedding

We have many friends

Our families talk about us at parties

We will make such cute adventure, artist, multiracial babies someday.

Perfect.

And I knew we were both suffering silently alone. And I had enough. I was going to fix it. Because that’s what marriage is, a commitment to someone to always try hard hard hard hard hard hard. And that facebook meme that everyone posts says “In my day marriage meant to fix what’s broken! Not throw it away!” haunted me. I wasn’t a throw-away-er.

6 months of him being gone and with minimal communication, I looked at my sweet four-year-old friend Lucy and I thought “what if she comes to me in 20 years and asks me why I stayed in my marriage? Am I going to tell  her because I was too scared to hurt him?”

Chapter 8 - I knew

I spent a chunk of savings on plane tickets and I flew to Italy.

I was here to rumble until we got “us” back.

We rumbled across Italy, through Croatia, to Scandinavia, and to turkey.

In Turkey

I said, “I feel alone and scared.”

He said, “If I had known this is what being married to you would be like, I would never have done it.”

We went to bed and I knew it was over. We were choosing “being married” and we were not choosing “us”. We were not being brave. We were being scared.

He slept that hot night in turkey

And I lay awake knowing that he would never leave me.

He was committed to the plan. If we were going to survive; Someone had to be uncommitted.

Chapter 9 - Thanksgiving

If we were going to be better, happier, free, braver, stronger, more joyful, and the people we had each fallen in love with; someone was going to have to drop the bomb. And it was going to have to be me.

And then we were in his parent's house for Thanksgiving and I carried my truth like a hot ball of fire in my chest. I knew there was one more chance - I was going to ask for help.

I went to his dad and I said “marriage is so hard! I’m really having a hard time.”

And his dad smiled sweetly at me and said “yes, those first years are so hard” and walked away as if to say “we don’t name that fear here”

Chapter 10 - ________

And I watched the falling floor out from under me.

Chapter 11 - Breaking up my perfect marriage

I was going to break up my perfect marriage to this incredibly kind and brilliant human.

I was going to break the heart of my sweet and wonderful partner.

I was going to ask for change from a person who was so committed to me that he would give up his dream job just to be present.

I was going to break this good man's heart knowing he might never forgive me for it.

I was going to break this good man's heart knowing his family would cut me out like a cancerous tumor.

I was going to break this good man's heart knowing that instead of writing our “success” story I was ushering in the darkest life water he had ever tasted up to that point.

I was going to break a good man's heart and know that it put our friends in a place where they needed to choose.

I was going to break a good man's heart knowing that he and my brother and mom would have to navigate those new friendship waters without me.

I was going to break a good man's heart because I knew it was the brave thing to do.

I was going to break a good man's heart because I knew we could never choose us if we always stood stagnant and silent.

My heart was broken, my body was broken, I was in deep debt, and I was about to break my best friends heart because it was the only way I could see for us to each be strong, healthy, clear and steady.

Chapter 12 - and on the 7th day they were divorced

When I finally did it, it blew me wide open. The words tumbled out of my mouth and I knew I could not take them back.

He didn’t speak to me for days.

During his silence, he printed off the divorce papers, filled them out and left them for me to sign.

We were divorced within a week.

Chapter 13 - Kindness and Divorce 

The lady who took our paperwork commented “you two seem like you’re really kind to each other…” implying “why the heck are you getting divorced?”

And people, here is where the real dark grit gets laid down: we are good to each other, we are kind, we do love each other, we sometimes liked being married, we chose each other more in those hard times probably than in the easy - and we still got a divorce. Because sacrificing ourselves for each other wasn't going to make us better, it was going to suffocate us.

Divorce is not for wimps.

One more time.

Divorce is not for wimps.

Chapter 14 - Breath

The following weeks/months are blurry.

I remember calling my best friend and saying “I hurt him, I’m his dark water. I hurt him” and to this day his voice saying “Mei, you aren’t broken. You aren’t broken. You aren’t broken.” ring in my ears.

He didn’t fight me.

He didn’t fight to get me back from the edges of the abyss.

And at the time I was thankful.

I needed space.

I needed to breathe.

I felt like I had been holding my breath for many many months.

I needed a deep breath.

I missed him. I missed my best friend in him. I reminded myself over and over and over and over and over again that it was not my job to decide when he would want to talk to me. I reminded myself that I had been processing this for many months and he had not.

He processed.

I breathed.

Chapter 15 - Grief

Emotional shrapnel is real. It comes from memories.

It comes from people.

It comes from comments in passing.

It comes from late nights of anxiety.

It comes from success.

It comes from failures.

It comes from society.

It comes in waves and waves and waves and waves.

Grieving our marriage came in the form of emotional shrapnel and it was not a grieving process that started when we signed divorce papers.

Grief, when the person is dead, is intense and constant and the notion of forever without that person is crazy making.

Someone once said to me Divorce is very similar to Death. I nodded my head and knew that that person had obviously not done death grief yet. (She later apologized). Death grief and divorce grief are not the same. They aren’t the same sport, they do not live in the same house, they don’t send family Christmas letters to each other.

Divorce grief is like riding a roller coaster where the person in charge of the ride leaves for lunch all the time. It’s like “I’m good! I’m good! I’m totally okay! I’m brave and bold and I’m going to be okay! Love is everywhere!!” and then you’re like “HOLY SHIT I’M NOT OKAY! I’M THE WORST AT LOVE AND ALL  MY RELATIONSHIPS ARE DOOMED AND I AM GARBAGE FOR HURTING THAT PERSON!!” and then you take a right-hand turn to “I’m never dating again” and then you swerve in and out of “Maybe I’ll just date everyone?” and then it starts all over again.

Oh yeah, and the soundtrack to this roller coaster? The voices of every single family member, instagram post, facebook post, social pressuring person you have ever met or read.

Divorce grief is intense and sticky because it changes every single time you remember a happy or sad memory or thing about that relationship.

Chapter 16 - Divorce is not the worst thing that happened to my marriage 

We hugged for the last time after throwing a surprise dinner party for my mom. We laughed, we bantered, we hugged each other so so tightly.

We haven’t spoken much since in the last few years.

I love that person.

I am so proud of him.

I would marry him all over again in that field and under that blue sky even if I knew it would be hard and heartbreaking later.

I never ever ever ever regret having that chapter with him.

Divorce is not for wimps.

We came out bloodied and bruised and heartbroken.

But it was not the worst case scenario for me.

Divorce was not and is not the worst thing that could have happened to my marriage.

We did not suffocate, we did not choose to resent the other person for our lack of breath, we did not hold the other person under water, we did not struggle and suffer alone together. We did not pretend.

That would have been the worst case.

This is my story. This might not be yours. It might not even be his.

But it’s mine.

---

To my first husband, I love you constantly and always. Thank you for building us alongside me.

To his family, thank you for the space we shared.  He didn’t fail. He isn’t broken. He made a person so happy and so brave. Be proud of him and love him more.

To his next partner, he might seem bruised and bloodied but we all know the walking wounded are the bravest and the most tender. Be gentle, and isn’t his smile the best?

To my next husband, I’m not scared. I’m braver. I’m stronger. I’m more tender and I love you.

---

The Manual

A quick list of things about supporting a person going through divorce and some answers to those terrible questions that get asked so you don’t need to ask them:

Don’t ask “what happened?” Just don’t. We can see the fear on your face. We can see the “I’m asking because I want to mine through your words for anything I do in my marriage so I can quickly eradicate that cancer so I don’t end up...like you.”

Instead say: “Shit. I’m here and I’ll be here.” But only if you mean it.

---

Don’t offer couples therapy as a “have you tried?!” Yes. We have the same internet as you. If we were in a relationship where that option was on the table, we did it. If it wasn’t on the table for us, we didn’t do it for a reason.

Instead say: “Shit. I’m here and I’ll be here.”  But only if you mean it.

---

Don’t say “I had no idea!” because there was probably a reason you didn’t know.

Don’t say “are you sure?” dude, you don’t think I’ve thought about this every single moment of every single damn day for a long time? No, I’m not sure and also yes, I am so sure all at once.

Don’t say “I wish I would have known and could have done something!” if you are shocked by the news, you weren’t close enough to have been able to do anything.

Instead ask: “How can I help in the transition?” “What things can I pack that you don’t want to look at?” “Who do you want to know that you don’t want to tell? Can I do that for you?” “Do you need space or do you need a distraction?”

---

Don’t say “But why did you marry them!?”

Know this: We made the best decision we could with the most information that we had at the time. We did the same thing you did at your wedding, we loved someone, we took a risk, we had a big party, and that was the exact right thing at that moment. Full stop.

---

Don’t assume you know the story.

Don’t assume it’s the worst case scenario.

Don’t paint the other person as the enemy. This isn’t a high school breakup (not that those aren’t traumatizing), this is complicated and emotional shrapnel is flying all over.

Instead know this: we have a lot of waves to surf and we will need major space and grace. We might pull away from you, it’s not about you, it’s messy in our brains/lives/hearts and we are sorting through it.

---

and know this: We aren’t meaning to hurt you.

We are just hurt and trying to figure it all out.

We are up against a society that tells us we failed at the one thing we weren’t supposed to fail at.

We are battling our own minds questioning us.

We are tired and we are brave but we are tired and it’s not even close to quitting time.

If we are hurting you, you gotta tell us. We might just not be able to see it. Our eyes are blurry from a broken heart and playing a lot of defense. Come at us softly, we will meet you there. I promise.

Space and grace.

Space and grace.

Space and grace.

Xo.

Mei

[meiratz]

This is my dad day. 

This was the day that my dad fell off a climbing route and died.

I’ve had a few of these anniversary days, 13, and every single one has been different.

The very first one was the one where the world stopped and all at once hit the gas. The second one was when people watched us with a careful eye to see if we were going to explode or to melt. The 8th one is where I learned to reach out for support when I needed it. The 10th one is where we say stuff like “holy shit, can’t believe it has been 10 years!” and the 13th is where you say thank you.

The last 13 years of anniversaries have taught me this: grief is an infinite experience, it can drown you or it can deliver you.  

Grief delivered me by giving me people. Grief gave me a team, a language, a shared experience and a quiet empathy that can only come as the byproduct of lived trauma.

On every single May 4th I have thought about people and it usually goes like this: I wake up and I think “dang it, it’s May 4th again and everyone is going to be dressed up as princess Leia and their babies are going to be tiny grumpy Yodas and oh yeah my dad died today” and then I get up and do my thing and I end up thinking about all the people that took ownership in helping me and my team get to this place where I can so casually name my grief 13 years later.

Those people are the ones who leapt in when other people were recoiling from our pain. They are the ones who have grabbed us by our shirt collars and pulled us back from the edges. They include the friend of my mom’s who stayed the night and was making tea in our kitchen the morning after, the boyfriend who might have been scared to see his girlfriend grieve but showed up to her house anyways, the friends who came over to be alongside during the scary conversations, the boy who picked me up at 5:30am every single morning after that because he knew I was never going to go swim if I didn’t have a team, that man who called the night it happened and said “I’m on a trip, but I’m booking a ticket home tomorrow, see you soon”, the boss who e-mails you to tell you how supported you are in your sadness 13 years later, the women who circled my mom and fed her children, and the people who keep asking us for the story because they know the telling of the story is important.

Then there is the multitudes of people who have given us space when we needed it but could not ask for it, the people who have given us jobs based on nothing but a good feeling, the people who have asked us questions when everyone else was scared to hear the answers, the ones who let us cry in public spaces without flinching, the ones who did not say “he’s in a better place”.

Losing a parent to the mountains is world-shattering. A beautiful place being the last place can be maddening. Missing your parent when your memories of them are only childhood ones can make you feel empty and groundless.   Being a walking reminder for your dead parent’s friends can be strange. Being the ones left alive can make you feel isolated. Grief can drown you. No sugar coating that. Grief is a bastard.

But,  when the waters start to fold up over your shoulders, your eyes start to lower, and your chest feels like it’s a million pounds, don’t forget the people that are yelling your name. Let the team form. Let the team hold you. Let the team see you. Let the team hear you. And when the 13th anniversary comes around, thank them by going outside and letting the sun hit your face while you think to your dead person “I miss you and I’m living this thing all out because of the people who have delivered me into my sunshine.”

Xo. To my team, thank you. To my brother and my mom, I love you. To my dad, still here and still never giving up and still missing you (it also makes me chuckle a little to think maybe he is reading tumblr from wherever he is in infinity. Ha!)

M

---

If you are at the beginning of your grief - it doesn’t get better but it gets different and the sun will feel warm again someday.

If you aren’t at the beginning and you feel groundless - let the team know, they’ll show up.

If you aren’t the grieving one but you are the team - know that this process is long and showing up for us is something we never take for granted.

If you are scared about grieving someday - it’s okay. We will be there.

[meiratz]

This started out as a love letter to the place that grew me but it occurs to me that I chose to be a photographer in Wyoming because of the community there. If you have shot with me, let me shoot you, asked me to walk alongside you with my camera or have offered up your walls to me; Thank you from the very bottom of my world. Thank you for holding me, providing space for me, paying me, and expecting large things from me. You are the reason I have chosen this life, the reason this place means so much to me and that I have found so much here. Thank you. We aren’t done with each other! I will be back in the spring and we can make more art together. 

--- I grew up with sagebrush getting caught in my socks, rocks of the windrivers tucked into my pockets, and the responsibility of taking care of my community and environment sewn into my fiber.

Wyoming is not a place people know. They know it might be near colorado, they know it has a big skyrocketing geiser in it, they know it might be in the movies? When you say you are from Wyoming, people say “I’ve been through it” which really means; “I stopped for gas, zipped up my coat, and I never went back.” And that is okay.

Being from an unknown place is part of my identity.

Being from Wyoming means I always pack a shovel in my car, I wave to everyone I pass on a dirt road, I look people in the eye, I make business decisions on character not party lines, I share as much as I have, I always invite people into my house, I work hard, and I will try most things once.

My Wyoming is complicated and wild but it always welcomes me home. It is a place where everyone gets what they need when they come. There was the time we all came home to grieve and H and I jumped the airport fence just to be able to breathe, and the time S came and found the healing she needed from the red rocks, there was that other time P came and cried her way to the realization that she was looking for company in her life, and that other time when D showed up in the middle of winter and found his adventure bones there. Some people choose to stay in Wyoming, but a lot of people take a rest there.

I’ve left Wyoming a few times.

I left to go to Taiwan, I left to go to Colorado, I left to go to Portland. Every time, I came back to Wyoming to breathe. Ryck once told me a story about S coming home from school and repeatedly standing on the back porch looking at the mountains to breathe.

Last week I left the basin and range for the desert.

As the sage brush falls out of my socks and the rocks get pulled out of my pockets and put on to special shelves in my new house, I feel a new sort of calm. Being from an unknowable place means I was forged in the chambers of change and respite.

The next time someone asks me where I am from I will not say I am from the land of mountains, caves, prairies, climbing crags and ranches. I will not say I know communities who meet at safeway, the gym, the yoga mat, and the bar. I will not tell about the times I have been swept into the arms of my town when I was grieving or the times I spent hugging someone else in their grief. I won’t tell them about how our local water slide is a waterfall and our swings require a cave called “killer”. I won’t tell them about the secret bookstore where all the books are free, the hot springs that are better than Iceland’s Blue Lagoon, the team of women who run the towns and the teams of men who support them. I won’t talk about the rich native american history and community, that bake shop where they remember your name, storytelling events, the kids who all know to follow the water or the fence line, the magnificent life coaches, the swim teams, the art, the burgers or the sweat lodges.

I won’t tell them all about that.

I won’t tell them because Wyoming is a place you get to know by breathing it all in.

Wyoming, till our next breath together. Thank you.

m

[meiratz]

Pat & Katie Their story begins in junior high and floats through high school.  They laugh about their first dates and finding each other again through time and life.  They talk about how grateful they are for each other, their lives, this time, their families being happy. 

Honestly, all that stuff is pretty par for the course when it comes to what you hear when shooting engagements and weddings. What ISN’T usual about these two is what they know about each other from standing in dark waters together.  Grief is nothing new for them. They know it, they’ve felt it, they’ve texted their teams and asked for help, they have looked the scary dark in the face and decided to walk towards it. These two found each other in junior high but when the dark water came rushing in years later, these two reached for each other. I’ve been thinking about the words “It’s not hard, it’s just complicated” and what things actually qualify for the hard bucket. One of the things that is absolutely in the hard/hardest/holycrap bucket is grieving and still showing up. These two are exceptional at hard.  Their love story isn’t one where all the flowers grew in the right place and all the pieces fell together. Their love story is about showing up, asking for help, gathering a team, laughing even when tears are falling from your eyes, taking the big risks, and most of all; when the scary comes in to stay for a while, being able to look over at the other person to say “I’ve got you, I’ll see you on this side and the next.”  To Pat and Katie, I love you. We love you. We see you, and we cannot wait to celebrate you in July. 

[meiratz]

Hey. I am a freelance photographer. That is how I pay for so many things in my life. And OH MY GOD, am I thankful for that. I am so thankful to have this skill that people like and hire me to do. I’m not sure what kind of bent out of shape, confused, and terrified person I would be if I didn’t have an outlet like photos. Thank you to everyone who has ever hired me to shoot their photos. I am constantly grateful and terrified that you will never hire me again and this will all go away. BUT that is my own self-talk to deal with and thank you for being still and constant for me. I love you. I love shooting with you. 

But this post is about how I am always looking for “a job” 

Here’s why I am always on the lookout: 

Because I want to work on a team, I want to build something that has a large impact, I want to learn from other people and projects, I want to leave work at work, and I need some affordable health insurance or to make enough money to pay for mine without money stress (Here in Wyoming my covers-nothing-but-huge-emergency health insurance is $340/month. I am a forever Obamacare woman, but I am almost always drowning in my insurance cost.) 

But searching for and applying to jobs is not for the weak hearted and it is also not without its own hilarity. 

I cannot be the only one looking for jobs. 

I cannot be the only one.  SO here is my voice out to the world to say: I see you! I see you trying! I see you looking for the right thing. I see you not selling your soul to the devil.  Here are some of my searching for jobs, being offered jobs, almost taking terrible jobs, taking terrible jobs, being offered great jobs that don’t go forever, and making it work stories.  Searching for jobs story:  I am a pain-seeker when it comes to this process. I LOVE TO CALM MY STRESS WITH MORE STRESS (to my mom and my life coach, I know this is wrong. I’m working on it. xo.)  Example: I search job boards to soothe (a.k.a beat into submission and exhaustion) my worried brain to sleep.  I have an app called JobAware and it is my version of tinder. I go downhill on this app very quickly. It goes from “Oh yeah, I could totally be a manager of 450 people in an industry I’ve never heard of!” to “I think I might be able to scoop ice cream? But they probably won’t hire me. I’m lactose intolerant.”  I wake up in the morning and i look at my screen grabs (this is how I organize my future life to do list. *screen grab* “Apply for that in the morning!”) and I think “Mei, what in the actual hell are you doing?”  Advice: Don’t do any of what I have just detailed for you. Don’t do it.  Being Offered jobs story:  I almost took a job as a car salesperson.  Then I realized I don’t know anything about Ford trucks and I don’t own enough slacks. End of story.  Advice: if you want to be a car salesperson, do it. If you go to buy a car from a car sales person, know they are working their tail off. The job is waaaaay harder than it seems.  Almost taking terrible jobs story:  I got offered a position with a company we will call “yourusualstartup” for the purpose of this story. I was going to be a customer success rep and I was going to be amazing at it. Did I even know what we were selling? Yes. Did my soul swell because I believed in it so much? No. It wasn’t complex or beautiful or important. I was in a place where I thought my marriage, my lifestyle, my livelihood and my process depended on it. So, I said yes and I started negotiating.  Here’s what I was offered: The equivalent of $8 an hour. No maternity leave. No insurance. I was offered: “a great company culture!”  I was enraged.  I wrote back that $8 an hour could not possibly be what they are paying their male employees, the law requires maternity leave be offered, and a great company culture doesn’t mean anything if I can’t pay for my regular doc check up.  The CEO copy and pasted my e-mail to the entire company and told them I was “obviously not invested in them and they would not be hiring me” and then they started offering maternity leave to their employees.   Advice: Do not let over privileged young white male CEOs decide what is going to work for you. Also, just because offensive stuff comes in a well written and well formatted e-mail, does not make it right.  Taking terrible jobs:  One time I worked for a company where I was handed a folder of images from tumblr and told to copy them.  I was new, I was scared, I was nervous. He was in charge. He was paying me. He sat right next to me. He had been in the design industry for years and years and years and... So I did it. For a couple days.  Then I thought: “Wait a second!! Mei! What the hell are you doing?!”  So I said “Actually, I don’t feel comfortable doing this. Because copyrights? and because what the hell?”  and he said “Mei, everyone wants to be a hero. The reality is, not everyone will be. This is how the whole design industry works.” 

Same company asked me to bring a bottle of fancy whiskey to the printer two days before Christmas to ask if we could expedite our printing job. Let me say that again: A company of MEN told a WOMAN to bribe another man with a bottle of whiskey TO PRINT T-SHIRTS.  *deep breath*  Advice: If it feels wrong. It is wrong. Also, that isn’t how the whole design industry works.  Being offered great jobs that don’t go forever story: Every nanny job I have ever had has been the most empowering and loving and beautiful experience I have ever had.  It’s just that I couldn’t help raise those babies forever. Even if I wanted to live in your house and be part of your family dinners forever and ever and ever. Even if you were my safest space I have ever had. You helped me fly. 

and that breaks my heart and rips me open every day. 

Advice: If you are ever given the chance to stand in the safest space of your life. Take it. Breathe it in. Thank it.  Making it work story:  This is constant. I don’t know what to write here because this is what we are all doing all the time.  I’m cheering you on. KEEP IT UP!  I love you. I’m proud of you.  This all being said: I realize how lucky and privileged I am to be able to continue my job search because of my privilege, my resources and my support. I do not ever take those things for granted. I think job searching, job offering, company cultures and resources can be better. FOR EVERYONE. Let’s push for that. xo.  A few of the people who have inspired me to keep it up and to keep searching for a good spot to land my energy and ideas:  Oakley - Forever and always pushing and asking for better and making dirt into gold. She teaches me how to never ever everrrrr settle.  Brittany - She never ever ever ever gives up. Also she makes the most incredible large scale installations.  Hannah Boreal - She pushed for her dream in all the ways possible and she frickin did it.  My mom - Coach, boundary pusher, writer, activist. If I get to be like her, ever, I’m lucky. I’ll let you know when her book goes on pre-sale. You don’t want to miss it.  Janet - Always encouraging. Always trying to be better. Always asking. Always reminding us why we are worth it.  All those Ragans - One pushes for equality and justice, one educates the next generation, one is all about mindset and surging forward, and one is in charge of a college volleyball program and is driven to give them the best life experience possible.    My brother - Constantly curious and forever researching. Also he taught himself everything. Srsly.  Tina - She taught and teaches me how to stand up, how to believe in myself, how to ask for more and how to be the best mother, professional and friend.  Kara - She teaches everyone how to be more fierce, tender and educated.  Max - When he says he is going to do something, he does it. One of my favorite thought partners.  Skylar - He works on himself, on the big problems, on the issues we haven’t even seen yet. He is three steps ahead, always.  Skylar’s mom - She makes me believe in the impossible. She took an entire bus of homeless youth to the movies when it was too cold to be outside. PEOPLE.  Katie - SHE JUST LAUNCHED SOMETHING HUGE! EVERYONE CHEER!  Robyn - Writer and coach, She is writing the most honest and raw book I have ever ever ever ever ever heard of. I am waiting on the edge of my seat for it to be on shelves.  Molly - We don’t know each other very well, but she has forever inspired me to push and to ask better questions, and design better things. 

Take care of yourself and stay present. xo.  M

[meiratz]

[meiratz]

“Trust your own strength.” - C.M 

xo. 

m 

[meiratz]

Red rocks raising their sandy spines to the blue sky like a splashes coming out of the sea.

The red sea and the blue abyss.

I didn’t mean to end up here, well I guess I did. I got in the car and I packed the snack bag. But I mean I didn’t mean to see myself so clearly here. I didn’t mean to settle into the quiet so easily. I didn’t mean to show up and let the pink sands sink into my hair. I meant to go see, I didn’t mean to go and be seen.

The desert didn’t change my life, but it did send a shiver down my own spine and held my hand with juniper brush.

The sand makes you walk slow, the heat makes you take breaks and breathe with purpose, the mornings are fleeting to make you shed your layers, the evening sets into show you the way to dream land. Life lessons: take a slower and more intentional pace, take some time, breathe, shed the layers that aren’t needed and never fight sleep. The desert shows everything has a history and a purpose and roots are fostered long before the wind even tests them. The sand gets in the folds of book pages and my pants zipper, red sand runs down the sides of my shower and it is still in the very bottom of my jacket pocket. Souvenirs and reminders that every moment is one we carry with us in our fabric, we are not without our pasts but we cannot experience our memories without living the future. May we always hear the desert calling and may we always be able to answer back “Thanks for the reminder.”  

[meiratz]

|| The Day in the Mist ||  He said “You wanna go shoot?”  I said “Yep!”  He has a new camera and I am always game for any minute spent with him.  I was going to show him the new weird colored wall I found in town, instead he drove us up into the misty mountains. One of the best adventures I have ever been on with him.  Willy, Mei, Bruin, and the misty mountain. 

[meiratz]

I get inquiries for photo shoots all the time with the second line of “I would love a shoot with you, but I don’t have a good enough reason!” Nothing breaks my heart more. Every moment you spend is a reason to document the time. Take a minute to breathe deep and celebrate the time that has passed, the moments yet to come and that you have made the space and time to stand right where you are in this season of your life. I’m not saying photos are the only way to do it, but there is something magical about marking time with the look on your face or the smile lines in your eyes.  This shoot was a brilliant example of just that. 45 minutes with these men, their conversations about engines and adventures, their laughs and their hugs. At first I was there and so was my camera, after a couple stories and a couple minutes, it was like I wasn’t there at all and all they could see was each other. This wasn’t a day any different from any other day, but it was a day where they were all together and all the stories were told in person. That’s why it was the perfect day.  I stood with my camera and watched them talk, watched him joke, watched them walk together and all I could feel was happy. Happy that these moments happen, that I was given the honor to see it, that they will continue to happen and it makes the world better when voices all string together to tell the same old stories they know.  Cheers, to you and yours.  Xo. 

M

[meiratz]

Sometimes the immense responsibility and privilege of being one of the living is daunting. I feel the weight of making every interaction meaningful, thinking through my reactions, taking chances, saying the things I want to say to the people I love, never leaving a moment or love note undone, seeing things through, putting my voice into the rings of injustice to scream for better, standing next to the people I admire to encourage them to keep going, living. 

Sometimes it is a lot. 

But sometimes, I look over and I see the team that stands next to me and I think “if my team is this, I can fight on forever.” 

My brother. My teammate. 

We aren’t alike, we don’t share deep life secrets, we don’t have all the same interests, we don’t text every day all the time. 

But I would stand in front of any battle for him. I would and will say it as loudly and as clearly as I can; He is mine. I am his. We are here. 

I love you brother. 

xo. 

M

[meiratz]

It was a beautiful day in Jackson Hole as I walked through the art fair with my mom. We talked, we shopped. As we rounded the corner I saw piles and piles of pottery that made me gasp. I went into the tent, picked various pieces up and turned them over in my hands. I have pretty small hands so when I find a cup that will invite me to sit and enjoy my coffee, it is no small deal!  The pieces were amazing and the pieces I purchased continue to be my favorite pieces I own and they have traveled with me from Wyoming to Seattle to Europe and back. But the very best part of that tent? The man who makes these pieces. We talked briefly that day, we joked, we discussed art and our future plans.  Fast forward a year and half and I sent a message: “Hey, I’m coming to LA. Can I come hang out and shoot photos of your process?”  His response?  “Hey!!!!!!”  *Which is the single greatest response to a text message. ever.*  I showed up at the studio and instantly felt like I had been there before. It was everything I had imagined and the air was built out of grit and brilliance. I shot photos, I asked questions.  We laughed and smirked about how being an artist, and the hustle that is involved in that life pull, seems romantic in the beginning but it can be wearing on the people around us and on ourselves. Neither of us regret our art making or our movements to astonish ourselves and be better, but we are no fools! We understand that we are swimming in waters uncharted because they are our own and we have not only chosen the waters, but also the storms.  I asked “Will you do this forever?”  He answered instantly “Until it kills me.”  and I grinned. I get that. I totally get that.  R is making such beautiful work, he is always pushing for the next thing, he is thinking about the facets of constructing and deconstructing. It was like meeting someone who sees so clearly but is constantly trying on new glasses just to see the view.  I want to be clear that I did not get paid for this post or to take these images. I did not walk out of this studio with a piece or with any promises. I searched him out, I asked to shoot these images.  I believe that we may feel like islands, but we are only islands for as long as we want to be. Sometimes it is imperative that we do our work solo, that we think it out and work in our own ways and at our own paces. I also believe in making teams and letting people tell our stories in their way, because we do not always see ourselves in the most fantastic ways or how far we have come. I am building a team of people who are surging forward with their work, I am going to tell their stories, I am going to stand next to them and cheer them on. They will do the same for me, that’s how it works. We are all in this together. Let’s make choices and work that makes our bodies buzz and the air shimmer. Let’s make the hard choices and remember that nervous means do it!  Wanna talk? Over coffee? Let’s do it. I’ll pour you a cup in one of my favorite cups.  xo. 

m Want to see what R has made? Over here!

[meiratz]

When we were little I was the one involving him in my projects and giving him tasks.  Now we are grown and he is involving me and giving me tasks.  Having a sibling is one of my favorite parts of this life. 

[meiratz]

The amount of veteran Tigers on the deck was impressive. The sounds of the cheering made your fingers tingle. The hum of the energy of a home meet was intoxicating. The movement of a team that has a common goal is familiar. 

These are the Lander Tigers, they are immersed in the push for a 20th consecutive state championship win. 

That’s amazing. Isn’t it? 

How many things have you won 20 times in a row?! GUYS! There is not a male swimmer, from this small town in Wyoming, who has ever lost a state championship. 

What.

Sheridan and Powell walked straight into an ambush of striped-fur and claws on Saturday. They were defeated before their bus engines even cooled down. The Tigers, worn thin after back to back meets, leave victorious knowing the season is young. There are miles to swim before number 20 is within a whisker's distance. 

(Saturday, December 19th. LVHS home swim meet against Powell and Sheridan.)

[meiratz]

When I talk about Freesolo travel with some men, they look at me puzzled; "why wouldn't women travel solo to begin with?" When I talk about it with women, they nod, they ask me questions about what I'll be addressing and how I will talk about safety. To those men; it's not that women don't want to travel solo, it's that we are often not encouraged to do so. We are given multiple reasons why we shouldn't and can't. The reasons range from "do you think now is the right time?" to "but is it safe?" Women; I hear you! I hear you and I feel you. Safety is something I think about constantly when I'm traveling or just navigating this world as a woman. Today I was reminded that I am a woman, I am a target of eyes and aggression, alone or with a travel partner. It shouldn't matter what I was wearing(but if you must know: a lululemon muscle tank top, a pair of Nike tights and sneakers) it shouldn't matter if something is a cultural norm or not, it shouldn't matter if lots of people were around or not. It shouldn't matter.

The three of us (me and those two great guys I love) were standing in a park in split, well lit (day time) and people milling about. A very tall male comes from behind me and faces me, he stands close to me (which, since I'm 5'2", means he stands over me...) and just stares at me. Stares at my face and I watch as his eyes go all the way down my body. I stand my ground, open my shoulders, lift my chin and say firmly "hey! What?!" He takes a minute and finally says "where are you from?" At this point I have decided that since the guys are around I will answer. I answer, shortly.  I quit talking and let dan and willy take over the conversation with tall man, who has told us his name is Dennis. Dennis has a strong handshake and holds my hand for a longer time than I would like. I don't talk. I don't draw attention to myself. Dan handles the conversation, we walk towards the bottom of the trail to catch our bus. Dennis walks with us. He gets distracted by his large German Shepard and we walk quickly past him. I release my shoulders which have crept up to my ears. A little while down the trail I see Dan look over our shoulders and there is Denis. He stops me by standing in front of me, looks me up and down again, grabs my hand and arm, leans over and kisses me on the cheek. I pull back my arm and face as politely and nonaggressivly as I can muster. Denis continues to walk with us, I wipe his kiss and the yuck feeling off my cheek and I put my jacket on. I walk slower and slower. He gets distracted by another woman and veers off course. I pick up the pace and we walk away.

Do those things happen in the states? Yes. Do they happen abroad? Yes. While I don't think it is my job, as a woman or a person, to educate anyone on this situation, I'm going to say a little bit about my decisions, because I think it is important and because I make decisions constantly based on the probability of these kinds of situations. Should I have pushed him away? Sure, but he was waaaaay bigger than me and he could have overpowered me quickly. Should I have nipped that in the bud and walked away sooner? Sure, I was in a park with two men I know and with some strangers. I couldn't gage his energy soon enough to make that decision. Was he being rude and aggressive and harassing me? Or was that just a cultural experience of how men react to women in Croatia? Doesn't matter. If I feel or felt uncomfortable or harassed, it's harassment and not okay. Questioning that is questioning my ability to gage my own safety and boundaries. What went well? Dan and willy taking over the conversation while we moved swiftly in the direction of our bus was helpful. But them being present did not deter his eyes or that kiss.

Does this kind of situation happen all the time? Yes. God damnit, yes. And a lot of my tips and tricks of freesolo travel have a lot to do with how I screen and dodge unwanted attention. Is this a huge subject? Yes. Will you agree with me about all of it? No, but let that be a conversation for us in person, someday or just understand that we have differences in our experiences. Is there lots and lots of writing and talks and research and quotes and films and people out there who are talking about this horrific systemic pattern and how to disrupt it/talk about it? Yes! Go! Find them! Support them! Educate yourself. I am a proponate of women traveling solo, but it can be dangerous to do so. I'm no fool. Today, I am sitting on a Croatian bus wiping the stench of boundary-crossing-harassment off my cheek.

[meiratz]

Hey. 

If you are a woman and you are worried that that thing you've been thinking of doing alone is not a good idea or not worth it or it's not the time in your life or a waste of time or too big or too dangerous or too something-a-rather-and-thegoddamn-other-thousand-reasons, I want you on my team. 

If it's travel, grieving, thinking, processing, business, projecting, moving, staying...whatever it is! Welcome. 

Welcome to Freesoloing. It's where you let go of the tethers of what society is telling you and you stand up and say "okay, I'm going it alone. See you there. Or not." I have gotten told that I'm a lot, I'm one of a kind, there isn't anyone like me, that I'm in a fun time in my life, that I should enjoy this phase of independence. All of that has discouraged me. It tells me I'm by myself. Tells me they don't think my ideas or adventures are grounded in calculated risk. Tells me they think I'm crazy. And you know? Sure, if this life is what crazy is, okay. But I don't think it is. I think crazy is letting the world determine your life itinerary because the unknown makes you nervous. I think it's time for women to not need a reason to venture out, it's time for women to be applauded for their courage, it's time for women to be asked "what are you going to do?!" Instead of "why would you want to do that?!"

I'm building a three phase toolbox for you Freesoloing women. First; One of my chosen Freesolo missions is traveling solo. My recipe to adventure is the first phase for the toolbox. My tips, my photos, my tricks, my social games I play to get myself out of my nervous mind, my playlists, my lists. Second: the team. Let's create a team of women who surge forward and instead of worrying about queen bee, we raise our hand when we are nervous/scared/beat down/lost and the group grabs us by the hand, dusts us off and sends us back out into the ring for the next round. And third: a meeting around the kitchen table. We meet, we talk, we plot, we connect, we say our wants and our needs and we surge forward together. It's like a retreat but it's better because it's around the kitchen table; where all good pep talks and ideas are served up.

But, none of these happen without a good team. Are you freesoloing? I knew it. Get on the team, share it with that woman you know who is also daring to do it her own way! Go ring the adventure bell! - http://freesolowithmei.com

xo.  m