Walking to class, all that can be heard is laughter – the kind that makes your stomach turn; the noise that can’t be blocked out. All that can be seen are wandering eyes that always seem to find you; the kind of gaze that sunglasses can’t cloak. Nowhere to hide, claws begin to rip at skin – pathetic skin, worthless skin: my skin.
At the age of 19, I was diagnosed with agoraphobia. Agoraphobia is an anxiety disorder characterized by a fear of public spaces that often results in panic attacks due to a lack of escape.
Tasks such as walking to class or driving to the grocery store can feel like a nightmare. I try to block out the mocking sounds of others with music, but I end up pausing it to make sure no one is talking about me. I try to look down at my phone to avoid their gaze. Scratches appear on my forearms, hands and torso from my panicking hands.
My doctor always tried to recommend new ways to cope. I was scared to meet with the center of disabilities about getting an emotional support animal. I refused to take the medicine out of fear of weight gain. He then recommended that I try and pick up a hobby.
My mother was an amateur photographer before her health issues became too bad to continue, but I remember how happy it had made her. When she had a camera in her hands, she was herself.
I decided to give it a try. I picked up her old Nikon and began shooting everything I saw as I walked around campus and the greater Peoria area.
As I looked through my photos, I began to notice that the subject of my photos was my fear. I captured people in public places. My camera gave me a sense of belonging that I had never experienced. It allowed me to separate myself from the environment that I was a part of. It became a place I could hide. It became my passion.
There are always days when I feel like the world is still against me – I still get scared to leave the apartment; I am always scared of the walk to class; I still claw at my skin – but my camera granted me a lasting sense of belonging in the world. Being able to freeze a moment of fear allows me to identify what I once perceived to be threats. Photography quiets the laughter and cloaks the gazes. It allows me to feel free.
