While on our trip to Greece, my beloved Hasselblad broke. For those following along, five years ago, my favorite camera, my Mamiya 645, broke while we were in Sicily. Both events brought me to tears, but the Hasselblad breaking almost broke me.

I love that my husband and I are both photographers. Planning trips, adventures, and date nights around our sweet little hobby are exciting. It is so lovely to have someone who understands the pains and heartache of film- especially when a camera breaks. However, sometimes, my ego is too fragile for his skill. He is such a fantastic photographer, and I see how much he loves to learn more and hone his craft. And so, when my Hasselblad broke, I thought it was a sign. I believed the universe was telling me to stop fooling myself and put the camera down. When my inner voice is cruel, it always seems to speak to my most vulnerable places.

After drying my tears, we decided to head out and grab some lunch and maybe some ouzo. In my pain, I proclaimed I wasn’t taking any camera. He looked at me with kindness and said if I didn’t leave with a camera, he wasn’t going to leave with a camera. We went out for the afternoon, camera-free. As we wandered the streets of Paros, we would see views and moments we wanted to capture. He finally gave me one of his cheeky grins and asked if I was ready to return to the apartment and grab a camera. My cruel inner voice doesn’t stand a chance against his patient love.

I would love to say that I got my film images back and am in love with film and photography all over again, but that simply isn’t true. I am in a season of frustration and insecurity. I am hesitant to pick up any camera. I feel delicate. Thankfully, I know this feeling will not last. I have been shooting long enough to know this is part of creating art. Art, for as much as it is an outward expressive, is something that changes and reveals the artist. I don’t take images just for the memories. When that shutter clicks, I am saying something about myself in that moment. I don’t practice photography because of what I create but what it creates in me.

When we returned home, I was able to get my Hasselblad repaired. I have yet to run a roll through it, but I am planning on doing so soon: when my heart is ready to feel all the anticipation of photography, and I am brave enough to hope. When I am once again whispering to myself, “This view is yours, and that is what makes it important and good and glorious.”

~Staci Lee