The Moment I Realized Photography Was More Than a Job

I swear there are several moments when I knew photography was for me. And It was more than just a job. It stopped being a hobby, it stopped being money in my Venmo account, and it became me.

Like something ancient. Like something I didn’t choose, but something that chose me first.

It didn’t happen in a classroom or during some perfectly lit golden-hour shoot. It happened on a wedding day where I was documenting an entire family’s legacy, their heritage, their everything… and suddenly I realized I wasn’t just clicking a shutter. I was preserving someone’s history.

But the funny thing is, while I was out here catching family moments, I was still employed by my miserable 9–5… ugh.  standing on my feet for ten plus hours in a print shop, bored out of my freaking mind, then running to shoots in the evenings like some exhausted Cinderella with a Canon.

And yet… That was when I felt most alive. The double-life. The exhaustion. The hustle.

But I didn’t believe in myself yet. Because my mom, in her well-meaning, practical, Utah-mom way, once told me: “I don’t know any photographers who make an actual living doing that.”

And I believed her. Of course I did. Moms say things like that.

So I stayed working two jobs, convincing myself stability mattered more than the electricity I felt every time I held a camera.

But then came Danny Albertson — a random marketing guy/ brother in law to the bride at a wedding who just sat down next to me like some kind of unexpected guardian angel in dress shoes. He looked at me, really looked, and said: “Just do a wedding a week. You’ve got this. You can quit your job.”

Photographing a wedding the same year I decided to quit my job

Like it was the easiest thing in the world.

Like fear wasn’t gripping my throat every time I even thought about quitting.

I didnt take his advice… At first. But then, one random day at my 9–5, while my feet were screaming and my soul was slowly evaporating under fluorescent lighting, I had this tiny rebellious thought:

What if he’s right?

Worse comes to worse, I file for bankruptcy or something. Honestly, anything is better than being here. 

What if the thing that makes me feel alive is actually allowed to be the thing that pays my bills?

So I quit.

 Mind you, I was only working at that job for 2 weeks. I was very embarrassed. And gave my boss a quick heads-up text. She wasn't thrilled with my method for quitting. But she accepted it and let me move on. 

YAYYYY FREEDOM

No fireworks. No “I’m following my dreams!!!” Instagram announcement. Just a quiet decision in the middle of a boring shift that I couldn’t do it anymore.

Photography needed me. And I needed it back.

Now photography is the only thing paying the bills for me and my husband. Some months are incredible. Some months feels like God is playing “Do You Really Want This?” on hard mode. (especially around tax season)

But I wouldn’t trade it. There is something strangely beautiful about not knowing how you’re going to pay rent, yet still choosing art anyway. Like choosing magic over math.

I would rather be a happy, slightly-broke artist than a burnt-out, rich parent rapped in a job that makes her forget she’s alive.

Maybe one day I’ll go back to work. Maybe I won’t. This economy is unpredictable… But… so am I.

 Right now I’m floating. I’m learning. I’m putting everything from my marketing classes into my business and watching it actually work. Like: Oh. This is what happens when you give your whole heart to the thing that loves you back.

And maybe that’s the point. Photography was never just a job. It was the first moment in my life where I finally thought, What if everything I ever wanted is actually possible?

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