Fusing Photography & Water
Transformed My World
Discover the art of navigating life’s challenges with unwavering resilience, rooted grounding, and unshakeable confidence in the gentle embrace of stillness and acceptance.
Photography and water have freed me.
They have enabled me to navigate the complexities of my life and express the inexpressible through images. The fusion of photography and water transformed my world, offering acceptance for all the facets within me and a pathway to healing. By combining the two, I have found my center. I found acceptance for all the women inside me. I found a way to heal, to connect with my body. I found the space I needed to truly see myself.
I found my purpose.
MY PERSONAL JOURNEY
I am a photographer. An empath. A third-culture kid. And I have Multiple Sclerosis.
Owning these parts and sharing them didn’t happen overnight.
Like many women, I’ve faced challenges and overcome them.
Yet I felt empty.
I’d push that empty feeling aside and keep running, afraid to stop. Afraid I’d fall apart.
I'd come to learn my life was being held up by a crumbling infrastructure of shame, guilt, and doubt. There never was enough time, patience, or money to tend to my self-care.
My survival skills—to not trust my feelings and dissociate from my body—were driving me.
I felt I had no choice but to be perpetually “fine”.
I was thrust into a world I never wanted to be a part of.
One morning, I woke up with blurred vision and my eyes throbbing in pain. After months of tests, I was diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis. A chronic condition that slowly erodes the nervous system. It is a condition with no apparent cause, but stress is pointed to as a leading factor. I was left with a diminished sense of feeling, low coordination, and partially blind. Yes, a photographer who is partially blind. It feels just as ironic as it sounds. My passion for photography, the thing that brought me purpose, felt ripped away.
It's the creative tool that has inspired me, given me purpose, and, thankfully, given me direction. My photography gives me space to understand complex emotions. The first time, I made a photo that perfectly captured feelings I couldn’t put into words — I felt it with my whole body. It moved me to tears. I was in awe of seeing my subconscious feelings reflected back. Things I couldn’t express but in a photograph. A visual that made sense of the jumble of emotions inside me. It showed me my deep desires, thoughts, and feelings lurking beneath the surface.
My love of photography guided me to photograph underwater. I have always been drawn to water. When it is near, I’ll find it, get in it, on it, or by it. Water calms me — it soothes me. It’s the thing I crave on the hard days. It’s where I linger. It’s where I feel free, grounded, and connected to my body.
Then my deepest fear happened — I fell apart.
It happened slowly, so slowly, I didn’t notice.
My life had become a relentless sprint. There was always the next thing, something out there — to do, to be, to get. I’d take time off here and there, but it was never enough. I had no reserves and was running on fumes. The desperation and feelings of emptiness lurked in the background.
My body pleaded for a break. My head resisted.
I had spiraled into a profound, soul-crushing burnout. I had pushed through until my body said no, forcing me to stop everything. And when it stopped, I felt like a stranger in my own skin. I ached to feel at home, to feel whole. I didn’t have the words to name it—just overwhelming feelings. Everything I had achieved felt worthless and pointless.
I was bone-deep tired — I had lost my fire — tears flowed instead of words.
There was no fix, no hack, and nothing seemed to work. I was desperate to feel at home in my skin. I sought to understand how I got here. I found mindfulness and meditation. Discovered breathwork and somatics. Tools to bring me back into my body. To the body I had abandoned.
To bring me back to myself.
I started to deepen my understanding of the nervous system and chronic stress. I saw the crumbling infrastructure of shame, guilt, and doubt born from living in survival mode collapsing.
The science is clear – chronic stress and trauma switches the nervous system to run on cortisol. To be perpetually in overdrive. And I'd had been in overdrive for decades.
It’s how I survived.
I found others with perpetually triggered nervous systems who validated my experiences. I found connections and felt seen. Yet, the internal feelings of emptiness lingered; something was still missing.
I knew I had to go deeper.
Aquatic Soul Reflection: Session Experience
It’s a journey – that started with being still
In that stillness, I was able to name things — the gaslighting, the manipulation, the trauma. I saw the relentless, vicious cycles of self-doubt. With care and compassion, I sorted through my self-judgment and criticisms. I slowly started caring for myself and my body, holding it reverently.
I started to value myself.
My deepest cravings drew me to the calming embrace of water. I worked through my disrepair, loss, and shame. I found space in the water. Submerging myself, I felt a deep reconciliation in my body and worked to return my nervous system to a parasympathetic state. There was freedom in the weightlessness—swimming laps and floating, I’d breathe deeply, connect inward, and listen. Water became my refuge and sanctuary.
I’ve found balance by learning from multiple perspectives and curating my mix, keeping the practices that make sense—to both my head and heart.
My journey started with being still.
Aquatic Soul Reflection: Session Experience
Prepare for Immersion!