THE JOURNEY WITHIN - A photography project about mental health

“In our deepest shadows lie the seeds of our brightest light. Every step through the darkness is a step toward dawn—not because the shadows disappear, but because we learn to carry both darkness and light in the same beating heart.”

- Mayumi Acosta

Last night I presented my first photo exhibit in Innsbruck, a personal project very close to my heart titled "The Journey Within," navigating the struggles of mental health. This project was made possible through the extraordinary collaboration with the very talented contemporary dancer Chiara Scharler, whose physical eloquence gave form to emotions I couldn't express in words, and my sister, whose unwavering support and assistance throughout the photoshoot helped bring this vision to life. I want to express my deepest gratitude to everyone who attended the opening at my studio in Innsbruck last night—the energy in that room was absolutely magical, and having people to share in my creative space made it all worthwhile. This project was a way to express my emotions during the mental rollercoaster that I have gone through in the last year. This blog is another way to share this deeply personal project, which was born just a few weeks ago, emerging from the depths of my own challenges.

When I moved to this beautiful country, I found myself navigating not just new streets and buildings, but an entirely new inner landscape. The unfamiliar language, the different cultural rhythms, the cold weather, and most profoundly, the solitude—these became my daily companions.

Being away from my support system, from the friends who had always been my anchors, from amazing mentors, clients, and familiar places, created a void I hadn't anticipated. This emptiness was compounded by the physical and emotional symptoms brought on by hormonal changes of perimenopause—a journey within a journey, with its own storms and uncertainties.

What you will see and read in this blogpost is my attempt to give form to these experiences—not because they are unique to me, but precisely because they are universal. Each of us, at some point in our lives, faces moments when we feel trapped in darkness, when the weight of our circumstances seems too heavy to bear.

But I wanted to show more than just the struggle. I wanted to capture that pivotal moment when something shifts—when a hand reaches toward the light, when the body remembers its strength, when breathing becomes an act of rebellion against despair.

And finally, I wanted to honor the delicate balance we achieve—not by vanquishing our difficulties, but by learning to dance with them, to incorporate them into the fullness of who we are.

There are moments when words fail, when they scatter like leaves before I can gather them into meaning. In those moments, I turn to light, to shadow, to the truth of a body in space. My camera becomes the pen with which I write my silent autobiography—each frame a sentence, each image a paragraph in the story I cannot speak but desperately need to tell.

Photography offers me a way to express feelings when the words are just not enough, those flashes when the ordinary veil of existence is pulled aside and we glimpse something profound in its naked simplicity. Through these images, I have found not just expression, but reflection and, ultimately, healing.

The light you see breaking through in these photographs—it is not fiction. It exists. It waits. Even in our darkest hours, it waits.

I thank you for your interest in this topic. I hope you find in these images and writting something that speaks to you, that perhaps illuminates a corner of your own experience. But beyond the photographs, I hope you carry with you the message that healing is possible, that transformation is real, and that there is always—always—light waiting at the end of even the longest tunnel.

THE OVERWHELM

The hours press against my skull, minutes stacking like stones. I push against the weight of my confinement—this shroud of expectation and fear—yet remain trapped within its grip. My fingers strain against the boundaries, seeking escape, finding none. How strange to exhaust oneself against one's own prison.

I curl inward, seeking refuge in the smallest version of myself. The mantle of despair envelops me completely—a second skin of sorrow. I disappear beneath its weight, become nothing but a shape, a shadow of who I once was. Does anyone remember the woman who existed before this smothering began?

The weight shifts. I find my feet beneath me, though my eyes remain fixed upon the ground. The shadows loosen—not by much, but enough to stand. I dare not look up yet. The world remains too bright, too harsh for eyes accustomed to darkness. Still, I stand. I stand.

THE BREAKTHROUGH

Then—a moment. A sliver of light pierces the curtain of my despair. My hand reaches outward, fingers extended toward that distant warmth. My foot finds solid ground. How peculiar that salvation begins not with grand gestures but with the smallest act of reaching. I have asked for help. I have admitted I cannot do this alone.

The struggle persists—waves of anguish crash against my resolve. I swim through my own confusion, sometimes sinking, sometimes rising. My extended hand becomes my compass, my anchor, my promise to myself. The light grows stronger now, or perhaps my eyes grow braver. The waves pull, but I pull back.

The rhythm changes. I begin to understand the movement of these waves of tribulation, to anticipate their rise and fall. The burdens still surround me, yet I navigate their currents with growing grace. Not mastery—not yet—but the beginnings of a language between my body and its afflictions. We speak to one another now, rather than fight.

THE BALANCE

Now I stand firmly rooted, my feet pressed against the earth that claims me. The difficulties—my constant companions—ripple around me still, for problems never truly vanish. But I face the light with open eyes, neither cowering nor conquered. I have learned to carry my story without being crushed beneath its weight.

I close my eyes not in fear but in reverence for this moment. The trials flow around me—no longer my prison but my dance partners. My face feels the air, my arms embrace the space around me, my feet remember their connection to the ground. I breathe fully, deeply, as if for the first time. This present moment—mine at last.

The sorrows billow like wings upon the air, like gentle waves upon the shore of myself. I am held within their motion yet not defined by them. My smile rises unbidden to my lips as I look upward into the light. Not because the darkness never existed, but because I have learned to hold both shadow and illumination within the same grateful heart.

I have arrived at myself.

Thank you for reading. If this story resonates with you, I hope you feel less alone. And if you feel moved to share your own journey—I would be honored to help you tell it through the lens. CONTACT me when you’re ready.

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