I never thought mental health would be my issue. Growing up in GT with family and friends who carried their own burdens, I saw how much mental health mattered. I watched loved ones struggle with anxiety, depression, and all the quiet battles that shape lives. And while I was sympathetic, I always felt – maybe even a bit smugly – that I’d been spared. I wasn’t one who’d get weighed down; I could handle life.

But lately, something’s changed. It’s as if someone turned down the saturation slider on my world, and everything now looks muted and dull (Ungraded log footage? Unprocessed raw files? No? Fine, I’ll stop with the photography metaphors). I won’t lie though – it’s terrifying to feel like my world’s brightness has faded, and for the life of me, I can’t figure out how to turn it back on. I don’t know what’s causing this greyness, and I can’t shake it off. I feel like I’m stumbling through something I don’t fully understand, and the more I think about it, the more unsettling it becomes.

Losing My Umbrella

The best way I can explain it is with this image: I used to feel like I had an umbrella, or a raincoat, or some kind of protection from the weather. On life’s sunny days, it stayed tucked away. But whenever the weather turned – if there was even a light drizzle – I’d pull out my umbrella. I’d see others walking around without their umbrella, soaked and looking like they were struggling – but I didn’t think too much beyond that – I had my own weather under control.

Every now and then, there’d be the inevitable downpours that come for everyone at some point – I think of Dad’s passing during the Covid 19 pandemic, or a particularly painful heartbreak, or whatever other massive shift happens in our lives. I knew that in those times, I’d be soaked to the bone. And I’d feel my feelings – sadness, anger, disappointment – whatever it was, I’d feel it. But I’d never really feel overwhelmed. I always knew that this was something that was happening to me, not who I was.

Now, though, something has changed. I don’t know when or how, but I feel like I’ve lost that umbrella, and my timing couldn’t be worse. Why? Well, it looks like we’re just entering the rainy season! The clouds roll in unexpectedly, and I’m left standing here, soaked to the bone, shivering, angry, helpless. And did I say angry? I want this bloody rain to stop or, at the very least, I want my damn umbrella back.

More Than Just Work

Work has been intense lately, and it’s tempting to pin this feeling on that – to say it’s stress or burnout. Work is certainly a big part, but deep down, I know it’s more than just work. This feeling, this shitty shitty fog that’s settled over me, feels bigger. It doesn’t feel like something I have control of. And that lack of control? That’s new for me. It gnaws at me because, for once, I’m flying blind.

And it’s not just the rain; it’s the anticipation. I see a dark cloud forming, and my heart races before a single drop falls. Is this anxiety? Is that what they call it? I can’t say for sure. But the feeling is real: It’s pervasive and suffocating and I really hate it. And it’s also so exhausting – trying to constantly brace for something you can’t see – to live under skies that threaten to open up at any moment. (Can you tell how mad I am?)

Searching for Light

I know this won’t last forever. It’s a phase, a season. Right? Either I’ll find my umbrella, the rainy season will pass, or I’ll learn to handle being wet and cold. Maybe I just need to accept that I’m going to get soaked a lot more than before. But can I learn to play in the rain? I really don’t want to just watch from the sidelines as this passes by.

I’m curious. Man, I have so many questions. What is this? Why is it here? How am I different now? How has it changed the way I see the world, the way I see others? Before, I thought it was enough to be kind, to try not to judge. But I never really got it. Now I realize the difference empathy makes – because now, I know.

I want to explore this shitty, grey period in my own way and through my art – my words, my photos, my videos. I want to lean into it and see what comes out the other side. Yeah, this might be an awful chapter, but it’s still my chapter. If I’m getting soaked, then I might as well try to get something beautiful out of it. Who knows? Maybe I’ll find something worth keeping. Even if I don’t come out with answers, I’ll at least have documented the journey. Maybe someday, looking back, I’ll see beauty I couldn’t see in the moment.

Ok, that’s it for this one. We’ll talk soon.

Damion

Ps. The title of this post, “Light, Dark, Light Again,” was inspired by Angie McMahon’s album of the same name. Her music explores the raw spectrum of human emotion, capturing the light and dark in ways that feel painfully honest, yet beautifully comforting. I’ve found myself turning to this album a lot recently – it feels like it understands, in music, what words sometimes struggle to say. If you haven’t heard it, I can’t recommend it enough. Here’s a link to Letting Go, one of my favourites.