Empathy in the AuDHD

The Healing Lens: How Empathy Shapes My Photography

There was a time when I thought I was merely capturing moments, assembling a collection of images that felt beautiful, nostalgic, or artistically composed. But over the years, I’ve come to realize that my photography has always been more than just an art form—it has been a bridge to understanding myself. It was the answer I had long been listening to without knowing the equation. It was an extension of my empathy, my way of healing, and an unconscious path I was walking before I ever knew where it led.

Photos From my kitchen as I practice on my own babies! No lights - a reflector and a silver sink.

The Connection Between Empathy and Photography

Empathy is not just a trait I embody in my everyday life—it’s the very foundation of my photography. Photography, at its core, is about connection. It requires an ability to see the world through another perspective, to understand and translate emotions into images that resonate universally. And for me, this practice has not just been about seeing others, it’s about how they feel—and being equally as open.

How Photography Became My Safe Space

Before I had a diagnosis, before I had the language to articulate what was resonating within me, I found solace behind the camera. I didn’t know at the time that I was creating a healthy way to disassociate, a way to step outside of myself without completely losing touch. The world behind my lens became a place where I could exist without pressure, without expectation—just observation, feeling, and creation.

Looking back, I realize my body was telling me what it needed long before my mind caught up. It needed a place to breathe, to process, to exist in the moment without drowning in it. And so, I listened, even when I didn’t fully understand.

Photography gave me permission to feel without overwhelm. When my emotions felt too big, I could focus on capturing someone else’s. When my mind was too loud, I could seek out the quiet in an image. I learned that healing doesn’t always come with a clear roadmap, but our bodies know the way—we just have to listen. The more I could ease others discomfort in their vulnerability in front of my camera, the more I could quiet my own.

Empathy as a Guide to Storytelling

One of the most profound realizations I’ve had is that empathy makes me a better photographer. The same way I have learned to read my own unspoken emotions, I have learned to read them in others. I don’t just take photos—I feel them. I sense the hesitation, the joy, the sorrow, the nostalgia.

I can feel it in my nervous system—their discomfort, their joy, their sadness, or their excitement. I play off of that and try to shape it to feel good so I can feel them feeling good. It’s a cycle of energy that I nurture with intention. If I can create an environment where someone feels at ease, I know I can capture the most authentic version of them. I am not just an observer—I am a participant in their emotions, guiding them toward comfort, towards a moment that translates beautifully into an image.

Empathy allows me to create safe spaces where my subjects feel seen, not just photographed. It allows me to capture the raw, unfiltered beauty of human emotion because I so deeply want to understand it. I want an image that you look at and it evokes immediate personality.

Photography is not just about the technical—anyone can learn lighting, angles, and composition. Truly! (And if you’re considering it - I personally say - go to school for business!) But the ability to translate emotion into an image? That comes from something deeper. It comes from a place of understanding, of truly seeing and honoring the moment as it exists.

DISASSOCIATION STATION.

Disassociation in a Healthy Form

For much of my life, I struggled with the idea of disassociation as something negative. But photography has taught me that stepping outside of myself, when done intentionally, can be an incredible tool for healing. Rather than losing myself, I found a way to witness the world with a sense of presence and purpose.

When I hold a camera, I feel a sense of control—not over the world, but over my interaction with it. I can choose to focus on the details that bring me peace. I can shift my perspective and see the beauty in the ordinary. It’s a healthy escape, a way to shift my attention while still remaining connected to something meaningful.

Photography has helped me redefine what it means to be present. It’s not always about existing in a moment with full intensity—it’s also about how we choose to engage with that moment. Sometimes, being present means stepping back just enough to truly see.

The Lens as a Tool for Understanding

The lens not only allows me relief from social pressures or misunderstood cues, it actually allows me to understand better. Eye contact is something, in particular, I am either very intent on giving or have a hard time absorbing information. This beautiful little 4x6 frame allows me to minimize the input around me and focus on the minute details my brain so loves to capture and obsess over. In truth, I created a job that gave my body and mind the release and relief it needed in a life where it was never readily presented. It’s where I can let down any habits of "masking" and truly just be myself.

I practiced by photographing anything my kids did. Lucy loved what it was like to hear underwater. She’d do this for hours!

I present calmer behind a camera, I can communicate better behind a camera, I feel confident, and self-assured behind a camera. It’s not just my job—it’s how I’m able to view different perspectives of the world that otherwise feel lost. I’m a stickler for details, and I bring that passion to every session—family, interior photography, commercial, branding, or otherwise. I want to know the message and how to translate it in the language I love to speak—imagery.

What My Journey Has Taught Me

Through my own healing, I’ve learned that our bodies know what they need before our minds do. The answer was always there, waiting for me to put the pieces together. Photography was never just a hobby or a career—it was a survival tool, a method of understanding, a language my body had been speaking long before I learned to listen.

And now, with more awareness and intentionality, I use my lens not just to capture others, but to understand myself. Every image I take is a reflection—not just of my subject, but of my own journey. It’s a testament to the power of empathy, to the healing nature of art, and to the ways we unconsciously create what we most need.

Photography has been my guide, my mirror, my voice when words felt too heavy. And for that, I am endlessly grateful

X. Dionel

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