World Photography Day

Today is World Photography Day

The camera has never just been about photos for me. It’s been an escape… a way to step outside the noise in my head and focus on something else. To be honest, it’s saved my life more times than I can count. Literally. 

When the monsters of depression and anxiety show up, the camera gives me a way to fight back. It slows me down, makes me see the small details, and reminds me there is still beauty in the world—even when my mind tells me otherwise.

That’s why I started The Theragraphic Project. I know what it feels like to be lost in the dark, and I also know how powerful photography can be as a lifeline. I wanted to create a space where others could use the camera not just for art, but for healing—for finding hope when it feels far away.

So today, on World Photography Day, I’m not just celebrating pictures. I’m celebrating survival. I’m celebrating the way a camera can be more than a machine—it can be therapy, connection, and proof that even in the hardest moments, there is still light to be found.

Chase that light!!!

When I Stand Alone

The past two months have been quiet for the Theragraphic Project.

Too quiet.

I’ve set the location, prepared myself and opened the door—twice now—with nobody walking in. I’d be lying if I said it hasn’t left me feeling a little discouraged. It’s hard to keep showing up when you start wondering if anyone will come at all.

But here’s the thing: I believe in this.

I believe in the power of photography to heal, to give people a way to express what words sometimes can’t. I’ve seen how picking up a camera and focusing on light, texture, and moments can quiet the noise in your head—if only for a while.

One day, someone will meet me for a photo walk who truly needs this.

They might not even know how badly they need it until they pick up the camera, until they see their own thoughts reflected back in the images they create.

That’s why I’m not giving up.

There will be a day when that one person—maybe two, maybe ten—finds the courage or curiosity to come. And when they do, I’ll be here, ready.

Because the Theragraphic Project isn’t just about taking photos. It’s about giving people a safe space to breathe, to notice, to create, and to heal. And if that means I wait a little longer, so be it.

So, I’ll keep showing up.

One day, the right person will too.