It’s been three months since I last shot with my favorite camera. Long enough to lose momentum. Long enough to feel the itch.
Today, I put the photographer hat back on and took it for a 12.8-mile photo walk through Bellingham, Washington. No rush. No destination. Just movement.
I didn’t even get to choose the subject.
That honor went to ChatGPT.
The assignment: orange. Also my favorite color. Win!
One color. One camera. One focal length.
40mm. Fixed-zoom. No bargaining.
But this walk wasn’t just about photography.
Long-distance walking has become a core part of my recovery. It helps regulate my nervous system, pulls me out of mental loops, and keeps me engaged with the world instead of retreating from it. It’s also a form of exposure therapy, moving through the very spaces my anxiety wants me to avoid, teaching my body through experience that I’m safe while in motion.
This kind of walking is somatic. Repetitive. Honest. Step after step of nervous system recalibration. No shortcuts. No numbing. Just presence.
There’s another reason this walk mattered.
Thirty days ago, I said no more and threw away my cannabis. Tomorrow marks one full month. And this Saturday will be the longest I’ve been sober off everything since I was a teenager. For 24 years, I never went longer than 31 days without drugs or alcohol. Not once.
That streak is about to break.
And honestly?
This feels fucking great.
Once the rules were set, orange and 40mm only, the noise dropped out. I stopped chasing “good photos” and started noticing what was already there all around me. Constraint did what recovery often does best, it simplified things enough for me to stay.
This wasn’t about perfection.
It wasn’t about productivity.
It was about showing up.
Camera in hand. Feet on pavement.
Clear-headed. Moving forward.
Recovery, one step at a time.
