The Moment That Changed Everything: Why I Pick Up the Camera with Purpose

In 2022, life brought me to a full stop.

I became critically ill from complications after a routine jab—so severe, I was left paralyzed from the eyes down and in a coma-like state. I spent over 300 days in and out of the ICU, coding five times. The last time I flatlined, doctors gently told my family I wouldn’t be coming home.

In what little time I had left where I was still conscious, I somehow paid off debts and even shopped online—a detail I later pieced together through unopened boxes and credit card statements I had no memory of. At the time, I just didn’t want to be a burden. But behind all that survival mode... something deeper was stirring.

While my partner was home processing what the doctors said, he looked around at the life we’d built together—our memories, our space, our love. Something hit him hard: there were no portraits of me. No framed memories. No captured legacy. Just a few cell phone selfies I’d sent him while at work.

The truth? I’d always been the one behind the camera—never in the moment, never in the photo. That realization shook him... and it shook me too.

When I finally made it back home (miraculously), he made me promise one thing: never let life’s small moments slip by again—not for us, and not for others. He asked me to use my gift, my eye, and my heart to help other families preserve what truly matters. Not just photos… but portraits that mean something. Images that hang over mantels, last generations, and tell stories long after we’re gone.

That promise became my mission.

Three years, dozens of hospital stays, more ambulance rides than I can count, and an ocean of tears later… I’m standing again. I’m shooting again. And most importantly—I’m seeing life through a different lens.

Since regaining use of my hands, I haven’t stopped moving. I’ve captured emotion in ER hallways, connection between strangers, the quiet joy of families just being present together. Every photo I take now is personal, intentional, and real.

And I’m proud to say—it’s been one full year since my last “chariot ride” to the ICU. I even called the funeral home and let them know I won’t be needing that cremation brochure after all.

Why I Photograph Today

I don’t just take pictures. I capture legacy.

I don’t just pose people. I preserve presence.

Whether you’re celebrating a new beginning, cherishing an in-between moment, or just want to finally be seen—I want to help you be more than a selfie lost in the scroll. I want you to be the fire mantle portrait. The one your grandkids point to. The one your partner clings to. The one that tells your story when words fall short.

This is my why. This is my lens. This is my story.

And I’d be honored to help tell yours.