Dark days.

I documented our children’s lives growing up. And our family. And our pets. That’s the good thing.

I sat here, tonight, holding my camera more like a talisman, a comfort object, than the tool it is meant to be.

I’ve sold all except my vintage film cameras and adapted lenses that aren’t worth anything. I’m down to a single midrange body and three lenses, though I toy daily with selling two of the three lenses.

Today, I came really close to carting it all to KEH to sell the whole lot, minus the family pieces that I inherited.

I wish I’d never gotten into photography.

There. I said it here.

I’ve screamed it, sobbed it out loud, to Jared more times than I can count, especially in recent months.

Photography is the reason we have no savings. My obsession with it is largely responsible for the six figures of debt we find ourselves in.

And it’s gotten me nowhere. Even recently, in trying to volunteer to do a good thing: not good enough for whatever reason.

And if I could honestly say that my life was better because of photography, then maybe it’d be different. Except I can think of several that it’s markedly worse.

It’s not fun to be the free community photographer. Good enough for free, sometimes; not good enough to actually pay market value, though. I’m nice. At least I’m nice.

There, I’ve said it out loud.

I wish I had never picked up a camera.