The beginning of April marked the end of an era for me…
It began with something simple, yet heavy: emptying a storage space I’ve held onto for years—probably longer than I should have. What I didn’t expect was how emotional the process would be. It wasn’t just physically exhausting, but mentally and emotionally draining in ways I didn’t see coming.

I had to let go of so many things that once meant everything—equipment, backdrops (the really big ones), props, books, and years of documents I no longer need (thank goodness for that small relief). But the hardest part, without a doubt, was saying goodbye to the prints… large, beautiful prints.

Some of you may not even relate to that anymore. Today, everything lives digitally—on screens, in clouds, shared in seconds. But once upon a time, printing photos was part of the magic for me. Seeing moments come to life, big and tangible. And yesterday, I had to let so many of those go… and it hurt. It really did.

As I sorted through them, I was flooded with memories—especially of the weddings and a dance studio I used to photograph. I was reminded of how deeply I loved capturing those moments, how much of myself I poured into every single one. It was never just a job to me. It was personal. I gave 200% every time.
And maybe that’s also why I had to step back. Because while it filled my heart, it also drained me. It left me emotionally spent in ways I couldn’t ignore. I cared deeply—about every client, every image, every moment—and that level of connection isn’t always sustainable in an industry that doesn’t always give that back.

I still photograph a few weddings each year, but only through referrals—through people who know me, who understand how much this means to me.

Back to April 1st…
I stood there, looking at those prints with admiration, pride, and a deep sense of nostalgia. I wished I could keep them all. But I couldn’t. And so, I let them go.
It was overwhelming.
Today, I feel it. I’m drained. Still sorting through files, still letting go of what no longer needs to be held onto.
But in all of this, there’s been a quiet, powerful lesson:

✨️We have today.
That’s what we’re given.
So today, I’ll give my best. I’ll be present. I’ll appreciate what is, for exactly what it’s worth—because one day, it too will become a memory.❣️

(Two of the large prints I had to destroy)