So, it's official.

For those of you that don't know, for the past year and a half I have worked two jobs; the first at a department of the State of Florida, where I am the public relations manager for a little program that advocates for the vulnerable people who live in nursing homes and assisted living facilities. I started working there while still in college and honestly, I cried the day I found out I got the job. Not because I was happy about my newfound employment (the economy wasn't half as bad at that time), but because I had so many dreams about my future and I can tell you, NONE of them involved me working in a cubicle. Thus followed several years of what I now refer to as "the tunnel" and to what many of my friends with similar experiences refer to as "the swamp." Post-college, naiive, still-hopeful, nothing-figured-out, oh-my-gosh-I've-gained-a-million-pounds-in-college, need-to-pay-the-bills, what-am-I-gonna-do-with-my-life, why-is-everything-so-confusing SWAMP. Rough times.

That being said, I often found solace during those years by expressing myself through photography. I found myself loving the way the camera allowed me to capture the emotion of a moment between two people or the energy of a group. Eventually, I started getting paid. Not a lot. Sometimes not even enough to pay for the travel to get there. But I kept studying. I studied my favorite photographers' styles, read thousands of articles, forums, tutorials, books and magazines, spending (probably too many) hours thinking about lighting and poses and composition. And I carried my camera everywhere, shooting everything and trying new things all the time, analyzing my underexposed or blurred photos, vowing that I would not make those same mistakes again.

And all the while, I continued to work for the State of Florida. Now, it wasn't all bad. I worked hard and eventually moved out of my cubicle and into a cute little office with a window and a tree outside. I had the opportunity to design and do a little photography and a lot of writing. I also learned invaluable skills like professionalism, tact and discipline. I know I would never have learned this stuff on my own.

Then, about two years ago, one of my dearest guy friends asked me out. Six months later we were married. My now-husband, Josh, has been the single greatest encouragement and support to me in beginning a photography business. Even before we were engaged, he was always saying, "Liz, you should do this. Why don't you do this?" And when we were married, he helped me to upgrade my equipment, make my post-processing workflow more efficient and do all the small businessy things on which many artists like myself are not overly-focused. The first time I ever even considered doing photography full-time was during a conversation with Josh when we were still just friends. Since that time, we have spent many long hours talking, praying and talking some more about it. It is not a small decision and there is a lot of risk involved. Although I wanted to do photography, I more wanted what was best for our family. I wanted to support him if he wanted to go back to graduate school. I wanted to contribute more to our budget and we both knew that wouldn't be a reality for at least two years into the business, should we decide to start it.

All this to say, on Wednesday of this past week, I submitted the letter below to a boss who has been incredibly kind and encouraging to me over the years.


While I had once day-dreamed of the moment when I could hand this letter to my boss, I actually do feel sad about leaving now. I think that's a good sign. Personally, I know I would not have the skills to run a business had I not spent those years working in a "real job." It forced me to grow up in many ways that I otherwise would have staunchly refused to do. And I'm very thankful for it.

So, all this to say, we're official now. And yes, I'm nervous. I may fall flat on my face and look back in humiliation. But as Josh always says to me when I'm feeling discouraged, "You've got to try. You'll always wonder if you don't try. It's worth the risk."