"I didn't pick up the camera to take pretty pictures. I picked it up because I was afraid I'd disappeared. I Didn't Want to Be Seen; I Needed to See Myself The idea of photographing myself didn't come from a place of vanity. It came from absence. One evening, while trying to upload photos for a dating profile after years of single parenting and heartbreak,"
"Click. The first photo felt awkward. The second felt posed. But by the third, something shifted. I saw a glimmer-not just of who I had been, but of who I might become. This wasn't about being photogenic. It was about presence. Soon, I started photographing myself regularly. Alone. Unrushed. Some days, I wore mascara. Other days, I didn't even brush my hair. And some days, I cried."
Photographing oneself can arise from a sense of disappearance rather than vanity. Setting a tripod and making repeated clicks can shift awkwardness into presence and recognition. Regular, unhurried self-portraits allow honest, unfiltered witnessing — with and without makeup, tidy hair, or composed expressions. Those images reveal overlooked strengths: firmness in the eyes, grace in aging hands, resilience in stillness. The act of seeing oneself through the lens functions as a form of letting in, healing, and reclaiming identity after caregiving, heartbreak, or prolonged invisibility. Visual practice can become a quiet, consistent homecoming to self.
Read at Tiny Buddha
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