Or: How I Learned to Stop Apologizing and Just Snap the Shot

Born With a Lens in Hand

I am a photographer.
Not just by trade—but by instinct, by heart, by survival.

I document life.
Always have. Always will.
(If there’s no photo, did it even happen?)

A Family of Memory Hoarders

I come from a long line of memory hoarders. My mom has giant, overstuffed tubs stacked in corners like forgotten treasure chests. 💥 Need a pic of my 3rd birthday? It’s probably in the same bin as a blurry shot of my 5th grade science fair and a receipt from 1996.
And somehow? I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

Because even in that mess, there’s magic. I can pull out a wrinkled photo and remember exactly how that day felt. What I wore. How I laughed. The smell of cupcakes or grass or sunscreen.

That’s what photography is to me: a spell that keeps memories alive.

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Enter Dave, Stage Left 🙄

But then I met Dave.
And Dave… has beef with photos.

Apparently, his mom (like 98% of all moms) used to make him pose for every milestone. So now, as an adult, he’s on this strange anti-photo rebellion. Every time I try to take a sweet candid? BAM—silly face. Ruined moment. Cue the eye twitch.

And it didn’t stop at selfies.
When our daughter Evie was born—arguably the most photo-worthy chapter of our lives—I took hardly any pictures. Not because I didn’t want to.
Because I felt anxious every time I tried.
Like I was annoying.
Like I was “doing too much.”
Like I should be ashamed for wanting to freeze a moment in time.

I regret that. Deeply.

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The Lens Is My Anchor

My ex-husband used to say the same thing: “Stop watching life through a lens. Be in the moment.”

But here’s the truth: I am in the moment. The camera doesn’t take me out of it—it helps me keep it.

📸 The lens is how I anchor memories.
📸 The shutter is a spell.
📸 And those little squares of digital or printed time? They’re how I remember the magic I was too exhausted or overwhelmed to absorb fully back then.

When I was 9, we went to Disney World. I barely remember anything… except the moments my mom caught on camera. There are maybe five photos total—but they’re everything.

In them, I’m chasing ducks in the park. Splashing at a little water play area. Hugging Pluto with a look of pure joy. Sitting wide-eyed at Chef Mickey’s with my siblings and a plate full of breakfast I probably didn’t eat.

Without those pictures, that trip might’ve been lost to time.
But because of them, I still remember how it felt to be there.

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No More Apologies

So yeah—I take the damn photo.
Even if someone groans.
Even if they make a stupid face.
Even if I have to climb a chair and bribe a toddler with a snack to do it.

I’m done apologizing.

Because life moves fast.
Memories fade.
And this—this—is how I hold on.

I’m not interrupting the moment.
I’m preserving the magic. ✨

Now smile. Or don’t.
I’m clicking anyway. 😘

📸 Click.