Photography and Mental Health

Lately, I’ve been asking myself this question more and more. Not because I don’t know the answer, but because I think it’s worth revisiting. Kind of like when you ask yourself why you do anything—your job, your hobbies, even the way you spend your time. It’s easy to just go through the motions without thinking about why you’re doing it in the first place.

Photography, for me, has never been a straight path. There were false starts, times when I chased the wrong things, and moments where I was shooting for someone else instead of myself. But one constant has always brought me back—photography is good for my mental health.

Chasing the Wrong Goals

A few years ago, I had what most people would call a solid life setup. Stable job, clear career path, finances in check. On paper, I was doing everything right. And yet... I was miserable.

I thought financial security = happiness. Turns out, it doesn’t.

The problem wasn’t my circumstances—it was my mindset. I was chasing a version of success that wasn’t actually fulfilling. It felt like I was running toward something, but I had no idea what that something was. I was stuck in a cycle where I wasn’t open to new experiences, and I felt constantly drained.

I don’t remember what the exact turning point was. There was no dramatic Hollywood moment where I threw my suit in the ocean and walked off into the sunset. But at some point, I picked up my old Nikon D7000, slapped on its mediocre-at-best 18-55mm kit lens, and decided to go for a walk around Sydney. I shot whatever looked interesting. No plan, no purpose, just taking photos for the hell of it.

Shit and for the first time in a long time, I felt happy.

The Reset Button

So, I did it again. And again.

Every time I went out with my camera, something clicked (both literally and figuratively). The stress that had been clouding my mind started lifting. I wasn’t overthinking my career, my future, or whatever other nonsense had been weighing me down. I was just present, walking through the city with a camera.

At some point, photography became an addiction. I took my camera everywhere. And soon enough, the opposite happened, I started feeling awful if I didn’t shoot for a while. If I went more than a week without picking up my camera, I felt restless, like something was off.

Photography had unknowingly become my reset button.

The Grounding Effect

I’ve always liked exploring new places. The problem was, I often needed a reason to do it, some kind of push to step outside my comfort zone. Photography obliterated that barrier. It gave me an excuse to go anywhere. Even if I wasn’t sure what I’d find, having a camera made it easier to just go.

And half the time, the camera wasn’t even the point. I’d walk around all day, earbuds in, racking up 20,000+ steps, sometimes capturing cool shots, sometimes not. But even if I came home with zero keepers, I had a good day. And that was enough.

The Visual Diary

Without even realising it, photography turned into my visual diary. Not just a collection of images, but a record of how I saw the world at different points in my life.

My mood changes how I shoot. I don’t always notice it at the time, but looking back, it’s obvious. Some days, I lean into high-contrast, moody frames. Other days, everything feels light and airy. It’s almost like dreaming, where your subconscious feeds you imagery based on how you’re feeling.

That’s something I never got from just writing or thinking about my emotions. Photography lets me see them.

The Dark Side of Fulfillment

Of course, like any good thing, photography has its traps. As I improved (at least by my own standards), I started looking beyond books and old-school photographers. I dove into social media—YouTube for learning, Instagram for inspiration. And, as you can probably guess, that was a slippery slope.

Before I knew it, I wasn’t just consuming content—I was comparing myself. I’d see photographers traveling to epic locations, capturing insane shots, while I was stuck in the same familiar places.

And yeah, it got to me.

Luckily, I caught it early. I reminded myself that photography is personal. It’s about what I see, not what someone else is doing. The second you start chasing someone else’s journey, you lose sight of your own.

So, What Does Photography Mean to Me?

It’s the thing that helps me stay present. It’s what gets me out the door when I’d otherwise overthink it. It’s my reset button, my visual diary, and my excuse to explore the world, whether that’s a far-off destination or just another walk through Sydney.

And ironically, after all the places I’ve traveled to, nothing feels more satisfying than a simple day out shooting in my home city. No pressure, no expectation, just me, my camera, and whatever happens next.

Photography keeps me grounded.

Maybe it does the same for you. Maybe it’s something else entirely. But if you ever feel stuck, lost, or unsure of what’s next, pick up a camera and see where it takes you.

If I hadn’t, I honestly don’t know where I’d be today.