Asexual Pride
View allAll Photos Tagged MentalHealth
I took this at Deer River, which goes to show that even the most gorgeous places can be home to subtle as well. Read about Deer River here on on my blog.
Be kind to people, spread love, bring smiles. You never know what people are dealing with behind their masks. ♥
Photo Sponsored by a good friend of mine, with an important message
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If you like this shirt, you can buy it on a Shirt, Hoodie, Hats and even more in RL!
Message from the designer:
"We fight our demons on the battlefield of our mind, as well as our heart. We endure pain and we grow tired. On days you feel like the war's been too long, and the pain is too much, I hope you stay."
"Qué preciosa es la vida, que puede estar tan llena de exuberancia un día y tan llena de apego a nuestro propio aliento al día siguiente. De feroz a frágil. De gloriosa a sombría. No podemos predecir lo que esta tierra tiene reservado para nosotros. Y no podemos medir las infinitas posibilidades de por qué las cosas a veces deben suceder como suceden.
Pero al menos, reconozcamos esta verdad. Que no somos inmortales. No somos uno de nosotros. No somos inmunes al dolor. Y al cambio. Y a la pérdida. Y a las tormentas que causan estragos en nuestros lugares más sagrados. Incluso cuando todo está bien y rebosa. Siempre estamos a merced de un solo error. Un contratiempo. Un giro equivocado. Esto, almas mías, es por lo que nunca debemos dar nada por sentado. La belleza y la tragedia. Abracémonos fuerte."
~ 'Close' de Ullie Kaye ~
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🎹
www.youtube.com/watch?v=x_Su8EKH_ls
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Picture taken in Naturally Naughty Studio: maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/Coast%20of%20Passion/162/2...
Echo of a Bridge
Cropston Reservoir, Leicestershire
Flickr: www.flickriver.com/photos/iainmerchant/
Art & Photography: www.theartoflife.gallery
#artist #interiordesign #photography #art #mentalhealth
I am not okay
I'm barely getting by
I'm losing track of days
And losing sleep at night
I am not okay
I'm hanging on the rails
So if I say I'm fine
Just know I learned to hide it well
I know I can't be the only one
Who's holding on for dear life
But God knows, I know
When it's all said and done
I'm not okay
But it's all gonna be alright
It's not okay
But we're all gonna be alright
I woke up today
I almost stayed in bed
Had the devil on my back
And voices in my head
Some days, it ain't all bad
Some days, it all gets worse
Some days, I swear I'm better off
Layin' in that dirt
I know I can't be the only one
Who's holding on for dear life
But God knows, I know
When it's all said and done
I'm not okay
But it's all gonna be alright
It's not okay
But we're all gonna be alright
I took this photo yesterday but did not get around to doing any processing. In 2025 I took close to 90,000 photos, most I have ever taken, the vast majority of them were with my new camera the Nikon Z8, which I am very pleased with. I posted just over 1600 photos on my Flickr page. I do not remember what year I started photography but it started mostly with flowers and gardens which I was into at the time. About 13/14 years ago I started Bird and Nature photography and I have taken over 500,000 images, so much of that was garbage but there have been some good ones and some even I think are great. My time with a camera in hand has been a mental health thing, I am one of those people who gets overwhelmed by the world and photography takes me away from the anxiety that lives in my brain and distracts me in a most positive way. We all need to practice some positive mental health activities and for me this is it.
A walk by the river
Watermead Country Park
Flickr: www.flickriver.com/photos/iainmerchant/
Art & Photography: www.theartoflife.gallery
#TheArtofLife #IainMerchant #Photography #DigitalArt #mentalhealth #Creative #ArtSale
It happens.
I wrote about 4 mindsets that lead to burnout and how to fix them: fourbrickstall.substack.com/p/four-reasons-youre-burning-out
I’ve been cut down and I choose to keep growing. One tiny little leaf at a time. It doesn’t look like much but it’s incredibly hard and rewarding work.
Nikon F100
Sigma 35mm f/1.4
Fuji Superia X-tra 400
Developed and scanned by The Darkroom Lab
Models: Rosie Roo and Zoe Parker
Unless one has actually been there, clinical depression and anxiety etc is very hard for a non sufferer to REALLY understand. Why doesn't the sufferer get a grip and just snap out of it?
We need light in order to create darkness
It takes the power of light to make darkness happen
Without light, there can be no darkness
When we dive into our mind
What exactly can we see
Is there hope or inspiration
Is there an emotional abdication
What is the cause of my misery
Can the answers be found checking my history
What is the path that I must choose
I can’t decide for I may lose
My reality has altered
My mental state has faltered
If only I was able to cry
I can’t you see cos I’m a guy
I am the rock you rely on me
I am the one who must simply be
Supporting others to hell with me
And yes you know that’s where I’ll be
Why can’t you see this pain I carry
This awful burden is my adversary
You think this is just arbitrary
In a wooden box it’s me you’ll carry
My emotional avatar right there.
For many years I’ve been struggling with my former time at school. The coercion, peer pressure, loneliness, the tribal culture and seeming chaos of random acts of cruelty and humiliation perpetrated by my peers deeply affected me. Add to that the bullying that was directed upon anyone observed to be either too smart or too dumb. So I ran silent and deep, tried to become invisible, did the minimum effort to receive a pass in my assignments, in constant fear of being cast out, rejected and mocked. After finishing school I felt cheated; I’d lost my chance at a career or even becoming who I might’ve been. I felt like a shadow. I felt like a failure. The bullies had won. I felt bitter and angry; I would resort to road rage to vent my aggression. In my mind I would become obsessed with questions like “Why” and “If only-“, I was trapped in my own past.
Through much counselling, reading and introspection, I had an epiphany recently. I realised that I’d survived. It sounds a so simple and a little quaint but I suspect that I had to be in the right place in order to realise the power of that statement. I was traumatised by school but I survived. Unfortunately many kids don’t. But I did, here I am. Suddenly the questions in my mind turned to “Now what?” and “What happens today?” Saying to myself that I survived something in the past gave me not only strength but focused me back on the present, the here and now. This moment here becomes important rather than trying to fix or resolve or find meaning in the past. That's a hugely powerful feeling for me and I’m proud of myself for surviving something I found so traumatic.
I don't know why it took me so long to get here but that's in the past now too. I don't know if this helps anyone reading it but if there's even the remotest, slightest possibility that it might, then it's worth sharing. Sharing our vulnerabilities makes us stronger, I think.
Hello, Old Friends.
It feels surreal to be writing this. If you remember me, you might remember my year-long project where I photographed myself every single day. That time was a whirlwind—a raw, beautiful, and sometimes terrifying experience that went more viral than I could have ever imagined. It connected me with so many of you who felt seen through my lens, my words, and my daily documentation of life, anxieties, and everything in between.
It’s been a few years since I last posted here. Life got busy, the camera stayed in the bag a little longer, and honestly, sometimes the world just felt a bit too loud for sharing. But I’ve missed this community, and I’ve missed the feeling of hitting ‘post’ on a photo that felt truly mine.
So, what have I been up to?
A lot has changed, and a lot has stayed the same. I'm still processing life through a creative lens, still navigating those daily anxieties we all share, and still documenting the journey—just a little differently now.
I've moved my daily, more immediate creative updates and personal stories over to my Instagram account. It’s where I post new photo projects, talk about what’s going on in my world right now, and continue those honest conversations about life, creativity, and mental health that we used to have here.
I’d love for you to join me there! Consider it the continuation of our story.
You can find me (and my camera) here:
I’m looking forward to reconnecting with all of you. Thank you for making that original project such a meaningful chapter of my life. The next chapter starts now.
'Mind your health'
Since 1949, Mental Health Awareness Month has been observed in May by reaching millions of people in the United States through the media, local events, and screenings.(copy and paste bit done)
This is now a Global campaign and awareness is indeed needed.
My thoughts after the last year or so we have had that helped no one through anxiety or other mental health issues was to give a moment to try and create an image that was my representation of the awareness campaign in lightpainting.
The translation of the shot will be different for everyone but the message is the same!
These are Photos that I have included in my portfolio. Each image shows my growth as a photographer. It shows how varied my photography is from Mental health to graveyards .
Riverview Hospital is a mental health facility located in Coquitlam, British Columbia. Riverview opened in 1913 and had 4,630 patients at its peak in 1950.[1] In January 2009, only 256 active beds remained, in early 2012 only 3 wards remained containing less than 50 patients and as of mid June 2012 only 2 wards remain. The final two wards closed on Friday the 13th of July, 2012.
A family member told me of mental health issues. Seek help, tell friends, and get plenty of sleep. I forgot, follow the recommendations of the doctors and take your medications.
I wanted to convey the feeling of hiding from your own self and disassociating. The feeling of not feeling you, and blending into your surrounding to try and hide from your thoghts.
Curiosity and Fear
This is a photograph, most likely made by my Aunt Marcia, showing me with my Dad and Mom. I can remember so much about this day as I look at the photograph, once again reminding me of the power and importance of photography.
As a little boy, and now even as a 66 year-old man, I am curious. And, as a little boy, and now even as a 66 year-old man, I get scared.
This photograph reminds me of so many things that are permanently stored in my brain.
I remember how my Dad combed his hair; the way he parted it, the direction he combed the hair, and the waves he had in the front. I remember how his face had a chiseled, distinctive handsomeness that made me want to just look at him. I remember how strong he was and how in awe I was of his arms and legs.
I remember the blue jean bib overalls I am wearing, and how it felt to put them on, pulling up the bib and hooking the clasps around the metal buttons. I remember the hat and the shirt and the way my Mom had an artsy way of putting clothes on me that I didn't really understand and appreciate until she was gone. I often wore a cool hat or a beret, layered shirts, and pants that had something different about them -- extra pockets, special buttons, different materials -- and a collection of belts that were very cool, including an Indian belt, a double-buckle belt, and others. When my Mom gave me my cameras, she gave me two cool rings to wear on my fingers.
I remember how my Mom would either kneel in front of me and look me in the eyes when she spoke to me, or how she would lean over as she is here, making sure we were both physically and emotionally connecting when we talked. I always loved that about her. She never seemed to be distant, but instead very close. I remember her long, beautiful fingers, and way rings sat so beautifully on them. I would play with her hands and touch those long, silky fingers often. She was frequently changing her hairstyle, but my favorite was when she had it longer rather than shorter. It didn't matter how she styled her hair -- I was the little boy in grade school who had "the beautiful mom". Understand, I'm not exaggerating -- this is what was often spoken by my little playmates to me -- and I knew it was true. She was uncommonly beautiful.
I remember being scared of bugs and creepy, crawly things at this age. My Dad spotted a tiny lizard and is doing his best to convince me there is nothing scary about such a tiny creature. I remember I didn't buy his argument so readily. You can see me reaching out for the security of my mother's arm as I kept a safe distance. I might have been curious, but I wasn't beyond being frightened.
This was the 1950's and parents gave kids much greater freedom to explore than kids can safely experience now, sadly. This photograph provides evidence of one of my favorite explorations, which was finding wild black raspberry bushes. I would gorge on them and after doing so I had splotches of black raspberries all around my mouth. Apparently it had been a good day for exploring.
As I write and reminisce, today is November 28, the one day of the year that I can never dance around. It is the day when fear became a greater force in my life than curiosity. Of course it is the day in 1961 when a deranged gunman walked into my home and started firing a 12 gauge shotgun. My Dad barely survived and would never be the strong man I remember again, but instead a man with a crippled leg and shattered heart. My Mom was gone instantly in the flash of fire from the end of the barrel.
Curiosity and fear have been my constant companions since then. I have had a fear of guns since that day. I compulsively make sure all the doors in our house are locked, often checking more than once. I used to remember November 28 as sort of the "day of the gun". Now, I most often remember November 28 as a day when an out-of-control mental health issue resulted in a gun death. Remember, this was 1961. The man who did the shooting was a mental-health patient, having had the infamous shock-therapy treatments of the time.
My curiosity and fear have now found a permanent home together. I am curious as to how, 57 years later, we are no closer to making the connection between mental health issues and gun violence. Oh yes, politicians talk about it and use it as a tool to get elected, but in America we've done very little to stop this catastrophe. My fear is that mentally unstable people will continue to get their hands on guns in America -- because we are unwilling to provide the financial resources for appropriate mental health treatment and we love our guns more than we love the lives of those who are slaughtered time and time again.
I will be quieter than normal on this day, as I always am on November 28. I can't dance around the darkness this day inevitably brings to my heart.
I am curious: will this cycle ever end?
I am afraid: it never will.
Each photography speaks of who is behind the lens as much as it speaks of the subject in front of it. It is a register not only of surfaces, shadows and lights but also of emotions, fears and thoughts.
This series was born with another goal in mind, but over the time (5 years or so) it became more and more related with thoughts about human psyche, dark places inside our minds, and my own mental states.
As a person with functional autism, some OCT and bipolar disorder; for me the labyrinths of the individual and collective mind are a passion.