Mental Health and Photography - I Bought a New Lens
I bought a new lens.
Not just any lens, mind you. A lens I’ve had my eye on for over 5 years. The staple of every photographer's collection. One of the most beautiful, versatile, well made Nikon lenses you can purchase. Fixed aperture of f2.8, variable zoom from 70mm to 200mm, built in VR for up to 5 stops of light, all the things that make up a photographer's dream lens. Those with extensive photography knowledge likely understood most of this nonsense. For those who don’t, long story short; it shoot photo good.
For as long as I’ve been engrossed in photography, I’ve stood in a spot and thought to myself, “If I only had this type of lens, I could get the shot I want.” I now have one less excuse to ever think that. My lens selection has become eclectic enough to encompass several different scenarios and styles of shots. The only thing I may lack is if you are desiring a shot up the nostrils of a wallaby from 500 feet away. Please don’t ask me for those shots cause I know those lenses exist. I’d have to sell my car in order to afford it.
There was about a 2 year span of debating with myself whether or not to make this purchase. It wasn’t for lack of funds, I could make it work without going into debt. It also went on sale a few months back which brought the possibility even more to the forefront of my mind. However, the question was something quite a bit more deep than if I could afford it. Finances weren’t ever the issue, my self-perception was.
This lens is too good for me.
Disguised as fiscal responsibility, I prolonged the investment into one of my favorite hobbies-hopefully-turned-career because I was insecure. I looked at the equipment I already own and the results of using said equipment. Was my ability to take nice photos worth the cost of a new lens? Even more surface level, was my enjoyment of said hobby-hopefully-turned-career worth a financial investment of such caliber? Interesting that my mind went there, nonetheless, 2 years of struggling to answer these questions led me to a very different place.
This was no longer just about purchasing a camera lens. I had to dive deep. Frankly, deeper than I wanted to go. We are talking about camera equipment, not purpose in life.
I am extremely critical of myself. I’m hard pressed to see one of my photos and have much good to say about it. I am also someone who believes they can do great things. I have moments where I look at life-long professional photographer’s photos of the Swiss Alps and say, “Oh yea, I could totally do that.” You wonder how it is possible to be both. I go from extremely down on myself to thinking I’m the best photographer in the state. How? Unfortunately these are more aligned with each other than I originally believed.
The self-destruction mindset and self-boosting mindset are just two sides of the same coin. Both have one common word; self. Both are inward focused, both put me in control, both give exclusive authority of how I feel to myself. Whether I use it to boost myself out of my league, writing checks I can’t cash, or I lower myself to a state of absolute depression, it is still in my complete control. Inward focus. Selfish, right?
Well, we are here, we might as well keep digging.
Anxiety causes me to think solely on self. I become so focused internally, my body, my breathing, that I seemingly have no regard for anything or anyone else around me. It is this burden that I carry. I alone.
I feel shame.
Then anxiety causes me to feel shame. There are certainly areas of my life where I should feel shame. My guilty pleasures of Hallmark movies, talking openly about bowel movements, yelling at a TV screen when my Buffalo Bills manage to stop living up to expectations, just to name a few.
This anxiety induced shame is reflected in how I think about my photography. Seeing photos of locations I’m too anxious to travel to brings me shame. I become embarrassed by the imaginary leash that tethers me close to where I’m comfortable. Knowing that there is a personal reason I can’t, no, won’t go to these locations. I’m limiting myself, I’m in my own way. I am the problem, so my photography struggles.
I never feel that the photos I capture will ever measure up to those I aspire to mimic. I mean, photos taken on my back deck or down the road from my house will never be good enough.
My photos feel small because I feel limited in what I can do. Though I work tirelessly to overcome my limitations and consistently try to expand my boundaries, I feel like I fall short. I feel like a burden to those around me so I feel embarrassed by my struggles. I feel like a failure because I don’t have the views, the likes, the business, the money, the publicity, the exposure, the opportunity to take better photos. I feel.
Flip side…
I have the camera equipment, the knowledge, and the creative eye to take some incredible photos. If only I could get out of my own way and allow myself to be where the landscapes are tremendous, then my photos can be appreciated. I would take photos differently, process them better, and create magnificent pieces of art that only my eye would see.
My photos would be better than theirs, I just have this nagging inability to be where the landscapes are that spectacular. My photos in Western, NY comparatively are better, frankly. I have less to work with and still manage to produce a decent image.
This isn’t confidence. This is straight up pride.
Same stinkin’ coin.
Photography has this interesting way of forcing you to think outside of yourself. You go from an inward focus to an external, purely by having to visually focus on something else. Getting outside my own head is what draws me to enjoy photography. There are times where I’ve done things and gone places purely for a photo that I don’t think I could have done without a camera in hand. The much needed distraction was a DSLR and a drive to capture something beautiful.
Shame only serves to drive me back into that hole I so bravely crawled out of. Shame forces me back to inward thinking. Inward thinking leads me to more insecurities. Self-focused.
Pride led me to compare myself to others. To try and match and exceed where others have worked hard. Pride causes me to overlook the struggles, the work, the personal battles in others and merely compare end results on paper to see where I win. Self-focused.
Photography was and never is the answer to all my life’s problems. However, it is a constant reminder to steer me back to a healthier place, thinking outside of myself.
So, was the 2 years of deliberation and eventual financial investment of the new lens worth it? Probably, but not for the photos.