One thing I’ve missed the most that I’ve allowed the anxiety take from me is photography. At one time, it was my life. I spent hours, hell days, weeks, in dark rooms, working on the perfect prints. Climbing around on, in, and through things I probably wouldn’t think of otherwise if it weren’t for a perfect shot. Three years at one of the top Art Colleges in the country, leaving me with a BFA in Fine Art Photography, and nothing to say for it because I’m too scared to try.
What if I fail?
What if people hate my work?
Two simple little words that can ruin everything for someone with anxiety. I’ve thought time and time again about working on a project or two, and maybe even trying to sell some prints. The closest I’ve ever gotten is a forgotten instagram account. Recently the photography bug is hitting me again, spring has started, everything is new, and I live in farm country. I could probably make a little money if I worked at it. But I’m afraid it will once again be something that gets lost in the dust. Again. The “what ifs” are creeping in.
I also apologize for the amount of posts today, the mind is racing and writing it down helps.