For the past almost two years, I did something I never thought I would do—I put my photography on the back burner. It wasn’t an easy decision. Photography has always been my passion, my way of connecting with others and giving them a space to feel seen, celebrated, and understood. But life has a way of forcing you to pause when you need it most, even when you don’t realize it at the time.
Two years ago, I started on a journey I didn’t even know I needed. It began with a nagging feeling that something about how I moved through the world wasn’t quite right. I had always felt different, as if I was constantly having to adjust, adapt, and fit myself into molds that didn’t feel like me. I chalked it up to personality quirks, to being more sensitive or introspective than others. But then came the diagnosis—autism.
I’m not going to lie—receiving that diagnosis as an adult was a shock. I’m what some people call a "high-functioning" autistic woman, though that label doesn’t capture the complexity of my experience. I’d spent years mastering the art of masking—blending in, smiling when I was supposed to, saying the right things, all while hiding parts of myself that I didn’t even fully understand. And because I’d learned to mask so well,
I was often overlooked as being neurodivergent at all.
When I finally received my diagnosis, everything began to make sense. My intense emotions, my sensory sensitivities, the way I processed the world—it wasn’t just "me being me." It was autism. And while that diagnosis brought a sense of clarity, it also opened up a whole new world of self-discovery. One that required me to stop, to reflect, and to work on unmasking, not just in small ways but in every area of my life.
That’s when I made the difficult decision to slow down on my photography bookings. I knew I couldn’t continue giving so much of myself to my clients when I was barely beginning to understand myself. I mean, how much of a contradiction would I be? I needed to step back, to process this new chapter of my life, and to dedicate the time and energy to working on myself through Cognitive Behavioral Therapy (CBT) and other forms of support.
CBT became a critical tool in my unmasking process. It helped me untangle years of conditioning, of societal expectations, of the ways I’d learned to hide parts of who I was just to fit in. Unmasking, I’ve learned, is hard work. It’s about peeling back the layers, about sitting with discomfort, and about learning to embrace the parts of yourself you’ve spent a lifetime trying to hide.
It wasn’t a quick fix. It’s still not. I’m still in the process of unmasking, and some days, it feels like I have a long way to go. But what I’ve learned over these past two years is that unmasking is a journey, not a destination. It’s about showing up authentically, even when it’s hard, even when it’s messy.
After two years of therapy, self-reflection, and personal growth, I found myself slowly stepping back into the studio. But something was different. I was different. The person who had put her camera down two years ago was not the same person picking it up again.
There’s a clarity now—a deeper understanding of why I do this work and why it matters so much to me. Photography has always been about more than just creating beautiful images. It’s about connection. It’s about holding space for others to unmask, to be vulnerable, and to embrace who they are, without judgment.
I realize now that the work I do as a photographer is deeply intertwined with my own journey of unmasking. Just as I’ve spent years learning to embrace my neurodivergent mind, I’ve always been drawn to helping others embrace their true selves, whether it’s through boudoir sessions, beauty shoots, or simply capturing someone’s essence in a way they’ve never seen before.
When I stepped back into the studio after my diagnosis, I came with a renewed sense of purpose. I’m not just here to take photos—I’m here to create a space where people can be seen, truly seen, in all their authenticity. I understand now, more than ever, how important it is to feel safe enough to unmask, and I take that responsibility seriously with every client who walks through my door.
This time away from photography was necessary for me to heal and to understand myself on a deeper level. It’s also given me a new perspective on the work I do. When I’m behind the camera now, I feel a stronger connection to my clients. I see their stories in a different light because I’ve lived through my own unmasking process. I know what it feels like to carry the weight of expectations, to feel like you’re not enough or that you’re too much, and to finally start peeling those layers away.
I want my studio to be a place where people feel safe to do the same. Whether they’re coming to me after years of self-doubt, after trauma, or simply to reconnect with themselves, I want them to know that they are seen, they are valued, and they are enough, exactly as they are.
The time I spent away from photography has only deepened my understanding of how powerful this work can be. It’s not just about the photos—it’s about the journey. It’s about unmasking, about shedding the layers of societal expectations, and about stepping into your true self with confidence.
And while I still have a long way to go on my own journey, I’m grateful for the clarity that this time has brought me. I’ve stepped back into my passion with a new sense of self, a deeper understanding of my mission, and an even stronger commitment to creating spaces where people can be vulnerable, unmask, and reclaim their sense of self.
I’ve learned that unmasking is not a one-time event. It’s a continuous process of self-discovery, of embracing who we are at our core. And I believe that photography—whether it’s boudoir, beauty, or any other form—can be a powerful tool in that process. It’s about capturing someone’s essence, their truth, and reflecting it back to them in a way that helps them see themselves more clearly.
For me, stepping back into the studio has been about more than just picking up where I left off. It’s about stepping into a new chapter, one where I can bring my whole self—unmasked and unapologetic—to the work that I love. It’s about creating spaces where others can do the same, and I’m more committed than ever to making sure that every person who walks through my door knows that they are seen, that they are enough, and that their story matters.
This journey of unmasking—both for myself and for my clients—continues. And I’m honored to be part of that process for so many people who, like me, are learning to step into their authenticity, one moment at a time.
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