I love love love being a coach. I love love love being a photographer. I’m continuously amazed when I can find ways for those two things to support each other. I mean, that’s certainly my plan: that my photography will enhance my coaching and my coaching will enhance my photography. But when it really works out that way, I find myself just tickled with glee.

A few weeks ago, I got to take some portraits of Joelle Lydon, who was my (ever-so-wonderful) coach for a whole three months. I’ll admit that I was sad when our three months of coaching were over, but when she asked me to take her picture soon after, I perked right back up. You see, most coaching is done over the phone, so I’d never met Joelle.

Well, lucky me, I got to meet Joelle, share a delectable cup of coffee with her and her son (who’s a budding photographer himself!), and take her picture. Talk about a jackpot of a day, huh?

Joelle is stunning, both inside and out. She’s a gentle, intuitive coach, and the revelations I had during each session were always subtle yet deep. She’s wise and spiritual, yet still pragmatic, and she’s the one who got me going with the whole investigation of pleasure in the first place.

To be virtual friends with Joelle, find her on her website or on Facebook.

And if you’d like to learn about having me photograph you, hop on over here, and we’ll talk.

You remember people’s birthdays. You ask questions, and you listen for the answers. You have good taste in food, and you’re great at sharing. You have a calming presence, and you don’t overwhelm people. You give the best compliments. The playlists you make are truly genius. You’ve seen all the most controversial documentaries. You have an adorable giggle.

And you don’t think anybody wants to be your friend.

Let me ask you this: what do you like in other people? I’m guessing you like the way they listen, the things they say, their quirks, their compliments, their little-known facts, their useful talents, their vulnerability, and their special way of being themselves.

In short, all the things you have.

Now. Why wouldn’t somebody lovely like that want to be friends with you?

The answer, if you’re reading this, is that they would. They just haven’t gotten the chance yet.

It appears that I can turn anything — anything — into drudgery.

Maybe I should add that to my bio. Then again, maybe not.

You’ll remember, I think, the particular journey that’s bringing this up. It began in the funhouse-mirrored world of eating disorders. It took a turn into the land of pleasure. There were several stops along the way to ponder what I (and you) deserve.

And somewhere in the last week, it became not so fun anymore. I was tired. Worn out from processing emotions. And I’d been sick for most of the past fourteen days.

Well, this pattern is familiar.

The pattern is: focusing singlemindedly on a goal, and driving myself relentlessly toward it until I collapse.

So familiar.

In every period of my life, no matter my age or where I was, I’ve recreated this pattern.

While passionately working on a project is wonderful, pursuing it at my own expense is not. As a friend reminded me, processes of self-discovery should be difficult, yes. But they should also be joyful and surprising and funny and light and silly.

As Kyeli reminded me the other day, it might actually be counter-productive to stop the flow of daily life in order to grieve or process emotions.

So what does all of this mean?

It means, first of all, that I’m remembering the buoyancy and bringing it back into my life. It means that I can be aware of my pattern of turning everything into drudgery, and I can check it, gently, at the door.

Instead of push push pushing for everything to happen now now now, I can let things flow, long-term, toward their destinations.

And then?

Well, I guess then I can see what happens.