This week as especially hard for me. In the midst of adjusting to new medications, working through the transition of a medical separation from the military, and returning day after day to an empty house, I realize that I don’t have many strings to pull me out of the darkness I’ve found myself. Matthew, even my psychiatrist, tell me I have to find the things that I care about most to hold on to, to use those things to build a stronger rope to pull me out. But what if those things aren’t enough?
Photography has always brought fulfillment to my life. Looking through the lens was like an allegory that explained how I interact with the world - always behind the lens and never interacting with the scene. My mental illness makes me feel hollow, like a robot, like I’m going through the motions while living a completely different life in my mind. Though photography has been my creative outlet, my means to find joy, my inspiration to continue, is it enough to sustain me until I can finally manage my affliction? I’ve been told to pour myself into it, to interact with it or even just think about it until it solidifies a drive to persist on. However, it sometimes feels like water pouring into a bottomless cup.
This barrier that disconnects me, this separateness that keeps me at arms length from the world, oftentimes leads me to turn and walk away, to choose to not participate altogether. Though what I do not realize is the door that I view as a closed opportunity remains unlocked and welcoming.