There were a lot of contenders for a favorite shot from January, but this one of Dublin along the Liffey River is the one I came back to the most. The combination of symmetry, warm sunset light and washed out California vibes brings me a great sense of calm.
Despite being one of the rainiest places, my weather in Dublin (barring the downpour I experienced on the first day) was fantastic and a perfect combination of a warm summer saying goodbye and a winter inching forward. Most of the time, the constantly shifting cloud cover made it great for changing light in the same spots creating different moments to capture and be challenged by. Ireland overall is very scenic, but Dublin in particular I feel is an underrated city for photographers. No skyscrapers or a ton of districts to explore, just busy little streets hugged by three story buildings.
Traveling to Ireland was the first time I did something completely alone. I purchased the discounted ticket on a whim not long after coming back from a trip earlier in the year and it initially gave me unfettered joy to plan as it had been on my list to visit for ten years. The months spent planning my route and which cities I wanted to explore excited me and gave me something to look forward to as the year drew to a close. Unfortunately, anxiety and depression have a habit of encroaching at the worst possible times.
A sexual assault about a month and half before take off triggered me slipping into a depressive episode. I spiraled thinking a lot about my life and all the parts I was unhappy with and how exhausted I was just trying to get through some days. It felt like the world was just squeezing everything out of me and I couldn’t focus because I just didn’t care, leading to me double-booking hostels and mistiming trains while I tried to finalize my route.
On the day I left, I struggled with whether I should board the plane or just go home and crawl into bed.
“What’s wrong, you sound sad?” My mother asked. Her and my dad were visiting my brother in Boston. I could tell she was a little tipsy from some wine, but she could still tell when my headspace wasn’t right.
“I’m just a little tired from the drive. Just not excited…yet,” I told her. I debated if I wanted to carry all my bags into the bathroom to pee or wait until boarding the plane. (Solo travel is great until you realize you don’t have anyone to watch your stuff.)
“You’re going to love it, I know you will,” she said cheering me on.
So, feeling like I would let people down by not going I got on the plane.
I won’t lie, my depression kept ping-ponging the entire trip. Touching down in Dublin didn’t magically erase it like I hoped and quietly prayed it would. The first couple days I couldn’t shake an overwhelming sadness, which then made me feel guilty because I was in Ireland and depressed. I’d leave the hostel in the morning and try to keep myself busy, but all I wanted to do was sit and just not be anymore.
There are three things that always help lift myself out of a depressive episode – running, photography or baking. I didn’t pack my running shoes and I wasn’t going to spend money buying ingredients for the hostel kitchen. But I did have my camera and a whole country to explore.
As someone who lives in his head a lot calculating ‘What if’s?” photography helps dial it down. Looking through a viewfinder I focus on moments instead of scenarios. The way the light hits a building or the flap of a bird’s wing; how someone is crossing the street or the way the traffic is moving. It makes me mindful in a way that I’m not in other parts of my life. Without a camera in hand, I’m pretty spacey, fairly clumsy and forgetful (I grocery shop a minimum of three times a week because I’ve forgotten an ingredient). However, standing back and lifting it to my eye make me hyper-focused on something else. Even if a shot doesn’t come out the way I want, the time I spend watching something through a viewfinder makes it stick in my memory like sticking your handprint in concrete before it dries.
This picture was taken on one of my last days in Dublin after spending the morning in Howth. I crisscrossed through the city the entire afternoon and was heading back to my AirBnB to chill before trying some nighttime shots and eating the absurd amount of Digestives and Jaffa Cakes I grabbed from Lidl. I stopped for a second to adjust my bag and something about the way the sunlight tiptoed across the water made my brain just click off in a good way; as if I just finished a great movie and turned off the television.
Seagulls chattered above and the nighttime chill crawled in slowly. Tourists and commuters walked behind me while I sat and stared, letting all my intrusive thoughts evaporate and a calm settle that I hadn’t felt for a couple months. The light was very Californian, balanced between a warm kiss and a biting chill with the street buzzing, but not busy. I sat for about ten minutes just staring before taking a few snaps, leaning my elbows along the guard rail. The shutter clicked, the gulls cawed and the murmur of passersby flowed down the street. I felt I could breathe.
Now, more than a year later when I feel anxious or I can feel a depressive episode triggering I return to this shot. Staring at it reminds me of that same relaxed feeling, a gentle nudge to say, “The waters calm, breathe again.” It doesn’t always work and I feel incredibly dumb when it doesn’t, but for the most part it remains like a little digital token I keep of being mindful of being focused on something in the present, of a moment and not hypothetical scenario.
I’m really thankful I went to Ireland, despite the harder moments and metal roadblocks I experienced on the trip and this picture and moment is one of the reasons why.
In a lot better place than I was. Sorry for the sap.