How Photography Became My First Way Out

When Straight Lines Became Too Tight

There was a time in my life when everything moved in straight lines: accounting, software testing, deadlines, university courses in finance and banking. I was working in an IT company that built accounting software for PCs. As an assistant general manager I handled managerial accounting and tested the accounting software. On paper it all looked responsible, stable, “proper.”

But something inside me kept tightening. Stress doesn’t announce itself politely. It builds quietly, until you no longer recognize the person you’ve become.

Then came the moment that broke the illusion of straight lines.

My best friend, died in a car accident. His fiancée survived, but she was left paralyzed. While I was asleep in the back seat of the car. I woke up into a world that no longer made sense.

Grief did not arrive as something dramatic. It arrived as clarity. The kind that hurts because it cannot be ignored. I understood, with a certainty I had never known before, that stability alone is not meaning. That being “responsible” is not the same as being alive. That life can end or be permanently altered in a single, indifferent moment, and that waiting to live until everything feels safe is its own kind of disappearance.

I didn’t know what I needed to do yet. I only knew that continuing as if nothing had happened was no longer possible. Something in me had already shifted. The lines were no longer straight, and I could not force them to be again.

That realization did not save me. It didn’t fix anything. But it cracked something open, and through that crack, change eventually found its way in.

The Moment a Camera Changed Everything

Photography arrived in my life almost by accident.
Art wasn’t what I was looking for. What I needed was air.

I picked up a camera simply because I needed a place where numbers didn’t matter and logic could finally loosen its grip. Through the lens, the world slowed down just enough for me to breathe. Light became a companion. Shadows stopped being threats and turned into stories.

Leaving the Expected Path Behind

What started as a coping mechanism slowly reshaped my life.

I made a difficult decision: I left my position in the IT company, and I stepped away from university during my third year of a four-year degree. People around me thought it was reckless. For me, it was survival.

A Studio That Became a Sanctuary

I began working alongside a photographer who created images for advertisements. That studio became my refuge. When the commercial work was done, I used the space to build my own portfolio: experimenting, learning, and rediscovering pieces of myself I didn’t even know I’d lost.

Soon enough, photography stopped being just an escape and became something I could actually live from.

When an Unexpected Door Opened Through Photography

Later, everything evolved in a direction I didn’t expect.
I became a coordinator for photographers shooting at music concerts. I searched for talent on DeviantArt, reached out to people whose work sparked something in me, and eventually built a small community around “beer meets”, casual gatherings where we shared ideas, explored locations, experimented in the studio, and helped each other grow.

Many of the photographers I met back then eventually discovered the niche that defined their careers. Sometimes all someone needs is a door cracked open, a little guidance, and a space to explore freely.

What This Chapter Taught Me

Without realizing it, that chapter taught me something essential about myself: I love helping people find their creative direction, even when they don’t yet believe they have one.

Photography didn’t just teach me composition or lighting. It taught me resilience. It showed me that creation is a form of healing, and that sometimes the only way to survive is to build something new from the inside out.

Years later, writing would take over that role: deeper, quieter, but rooted in the same truth.