“And I realized that I should be seen by others, I had to first want to see myself.” ~Anonymous
In a world where we teach us to be visible only when we are polished, productive, or comfortable, I found something unexpected on the other side of the camera: myself.
But it’s not a filtered version. It’s not a compiled version or a “I’m fine so I’m smiling” version.
I found someone I forgot. For all others, he loved, gave and showed up for years, but rarely turned that kindness inward.
I picked up my camera and didn’t take any good photos. I was worried that I might have disappeared, so I picked it up.
I didn’t want to see it. I had to see myself
The idea of filming yourself didn’t come from a place of vanity. It came from absence.
One night, while trying to upload a photo of my date profile after years of only parenting and heartbreak, I realized that I didn’t have a photo that felt like me. It’s not my version that weathered. It’s not the version I was in.
So I quietly set up the tripod. I polished my hair from my face. I took a deep breath.
click.
The first photo felt troublesome. The second felt posed. But by the third thing, something had changed. I saw a faint light. Not just who I was, but who I might be.
This is not photogenic. It was about existence.
Each click became a quiet homecoming
Soon, I started filming myself regularly. By yourself. Rude.
One day I was wearing mascara. On other days I didn’t even brush my hair. And one day, I cried.
But every day I tried to show up as honestly as possible.
Slowly, I began to realize that I had overlooked for years:
My eyes are the strength of my aging hands, the elasticity of my tranquility
They were more than just pictures. They were whispers. A visual love letter. The way to say “I’m still here.”
And I couldn’t see. I was looking for the wrong lens.
I thought I was taking pictures, but it was actually soothing.
We live in a culture that celebrates busyness and output. But it rarely teaches us how to witness ourselves, especially the tranquility.
In the quiet moment behind the lens, my camera became a kind teacher. It held up space for my version. It didn’t ask me to smile. I didn’t judge. I just saw it.
And with my own eyes, I began to heal.
My camera has become more than a tool. It became a mirror. It’s not the kind of thing you criticize or compare, but the kind of thing that says, “You’re allowed to take up space, just like you.”
This is what I learned (and I’ll continue to study)
Through this experience I learned:
I couldn’t see. I have not seen myself with curiosity for a long time. I looked with judgment. Tired. It’s embarrassing. But it’s not compassion. These were not selfies. They were self-portraits and reclaimed actions. I didn’t need to be beautiful. I had to be honest.
Each session became an act of perfectionism, invisibility and quiet rebellion against pressure to execute.
And slowly, the truth emerged. I didn’t have to wait for the milestone to be worthy of attention.
No change was necessary. Permission was required. Permission to look at yourself. Permission to say: This is me.
From healing to helping others
In the end, something unexpected happened.
I started sharing some of my stories. And people began to reach out.
“I feel like I’ve lost myself too.” “I’ve never actually seen a photo of myself that I liked in years.” “I don’t remember the last time I felt comfortable in front of the camera.”
So I started photography of others – not for branding or special events, but for healing.
In natural light, in safe spaces, create images that capture more than what looks.
We captured our presence. Attribution. truth.
One woman whispered after the session. “I feel like I’m back at my home.”
I knew exactly what she meant.
You don’t need special opportunities to see
If you ever felt like you were a little quiet inside…
If you ever wondered when you look in the mirror and stop recognizing the person you are staring back…
If you ever felt like the world was only seeing a small part of who you really are…
I want you to know this: you don’t have to wait.
You don’t have to lose 10 pounds, win promotions, start a new relationship and deserve your gaze.
You are already.
If you feel invisible, here is a gentle invitation:
Set up the camera. Let the light shine on your face. Stay still. click.
The first photo may seem strange. The second might feel compelled.
But please continue.
Eventually someone appears in that frame. And when they do, you remember: you were here the whole time.
About Shannon Kathleen
Shannon Kathleen is a Minneapolis-based photographer specializing in self-worth and online dating portraits. After navigating the quiet reinvention with a long-standing single motherhood, she began practicing self-portraits, which helps her reconnect with her identity, not as a parent, partner, or professional. She now helps others rediscover their confidence through the lens. Find her reflections, kind resources and photos at Shannonkathleenphotography.com
