My Photography Journey: The Remarkable and Inspiring Story of Becoming a Photographer

Before I ever called myself an artist, I was a young military mama living in a world that changed every few years. New bases, new routines, new everything. Life overseas had a rhythm of constant movement—packing up, starting over, raising kids, and navigating deployments and unpredictable schedules.

Somewhere in all that chaos, I picked up my very first camera.

It wasn’t anything fancy, but it felt like a spark. Each time I lifted it to my eye, something inside me stirred—a whisper I couldn’t quite put into words. It was the first hint that maybe photography was supposed to be more than just a hobby.

But film photography overseas?
That was a challenge all on its own.

Developing film meant mailing rolls out and hoping the photography gods were kind. Sometimes the images came back perfect. Sometimes the colors were strange. Sometimes whole strips were ruined. And more times than I’d like to admit… they simply disappeared somewhere between the post office and wherever they were sent to be processed.

When you’re juggling toddlers, tight budgets, a husband away for stretches of time, and the constant uprooting that military life demands, developing film becomes the last thing on the list. Eventually, the little spark I felt started to fade. Not because it wasn’t real—but because life was loud, and I was needed everywhere else.

For a long time, the camera sat quiet, waiting for a season when I could breathe again.

The Spark That Returned

Years later, digital cameras became a thing. I mentioned—probably one too many times—how much I missed photography and how much I wanted to try again. Someone heard that passion in my voice, and I ended up receiving a digital camera as a gift.

I’ll never forget holding it for the first time.

The second I snapped a picture and saw it instantly appear on the screen, something inside me woke up—fast and fierce. It felt like rediscovering a part of myself that had been tucked away for years.

That little screen changed everything.

I started photographing anything and everything: backyard birds, flowers, sunsets, the beach, the Gulf, and quiet moments that helped me breathe again. It wasn’t about perfection—it was about remembering who I was.

But life still had its own plans.
Caregiving. Motherhood. Family needs.
My camera sat on the shelf more than I wanted it to.

The Turning Point

Then, completely by accident, I discovered photo editing.

One simple click, one curiosity-driven experiment, and suddenly a whole new world opened up. Editing wasn’t just a tool—it was a transformation. It allowed me to translate what I felt when I took the photo, not just what the camera saw.

That moment changed everything.

I wasn’t just capturing images anymore;
I was creating art.

The spark didn’t just return this time—it came back blazing. I learned, practiced, experimented, failed, grew, and poured my heart into the craft. Photography finally had the space in my life it had been waiting for.

The First Proof That This Was Real

Once I started sharing my images online, I ran straight into the next intimidating question:

Would anyone actually want to buy my work?

Uploading my first professional image—a daisy—felt like placing a piece of my heart out into the world, hoping someone would see it.

Then it happened.

My first sale.
Not the daisy, but an image from the Apalachicola River.

I’ll never forget that moment.
My heart raced. My eyes filled with tears. My whole body felt electric. Someone wanted my art to hang in their home.

That single sale changed everything for me.
It made the dream feel real—not someday, but right now.

Becoming the Artist I Was Always Meant to Be

Since that day, I’ve poured myself into this craft. I explore rivers, marshes, beaches, sunsets, storm clouds, wildlife, and the quiet corners of nature most people drive right past without noticing.

My portfolio has grown to over a thousand images.
My work lives in homes across the country.
And I’ve stepped boldly into online galleries and creative opportunities I never imagined I would have the courage to pursue.

Photography didn’t show up once in my life—it showed up twice.
Once in a season when I wasn’t ready to hold it…
and again when I finally was.

It waited for me.
And when the timing was right, I stepped into it with both feet.

And Now? I’m Just Getting Started.

My responsibilities in life didn’t disappear as the years went by.
I’m still a caregiver — not to babies this time, but to adults who depend on me in new and deeper ways. The weight of that hasn’t gone away, but I have changed.

I’m stronger now.
Wiser.
More grounded.
And for the first time, I have support and community behind me — something I didn’t have in the earlier chapters of my life.

And that support matters.

Because photography isn’t just about passion.
It’s about people who believe in you enough to help keep that spark alive when life gets heavy. It’s about being surrounded by those who remind you that your creativity matters too — that it deserves space, time, and room to grow.

My art hasn’t survived despite my life as a caregiver.
It has thrived because I’ve learned how to carry both roles with heart, faith, and resilience.

I’m no longer the woman who doubts her talent or hides her creativity behind caregiving, chaos, or “maybe someday.” I am a photographer. An artist. A storyteller. Someone who sees beauty everywhere — and captures it one frame at a time.

There are still sunsets to chase.
Rivers to explore.
Wildlife to witness.
And stories waiting for my lens.

The best part of my photography journey isn’t behind me.
It’s ahead of me — and I’m finally ready for it.