Dear Music Industry

When I was young I had the impression I was being followed. Wherever I went, whatever progress I made, a sensation of worry would grab ahold of me. In the days of picking dandelions and coloring outside of the lines, it was easy enough to ignore all this; pushing it back under the bed like a creature from a children’s book. In recent years, with feelings of stress and panic growing prominent and manifesting into physical symptoms, it became necessary to acknowledge the obvious: anxiety was greatly impacting my life.

It’s true that acceptance (of anything, really) is the first step towards improving your health. As soon as I recognized the role anxiety was playing in my life, I began to have discussions on the topic of mental health with family and friends. This demolished a wall of isolation I unknowingly built, allowing me to validate my emotions and feel less alone. In fact, The National Institute of Mental Health reports that 18.1 % of the United States’ adult population has lived with anxiety in the past year, with 22.8 % of these cases being classified as severe; making it the most common mental illness in the country. With so many individuals experiencing various forms of anxiety, no two people will have identical experiences. On that note, I begin the story of my own journey with anxiety; elements of which I’m certain are universal, while some are more personal.

As I approached the age of fifteen, anxiety propelled me out of my comfort zone; meaning that everywhere I previously felt secure mutated into the exact opposite. My belief is that everyone feels out of sorts at fifteen— how could you not? Everyone around you is dressed in the Aeropostale sales section and there’s that one kid in all your classes wearing far too much Axe body spray while spewing Nickelback propaganda. Logically I knew it was okay to feel like I didn’t fit in at this point in my life; but anxiety has a way of overwriting logic. I began to feel as though my world was collapsing and I was falling with it. What had no possibility of happening suddenly became what will happen, and what would start as a decent day would quickly descend into one spent drowning in a sea of nausea.

In the midst of one particularly terrible day, I decided to go on a walk to clear my head. Years ago my father had purchased a standard Nikon camera to document family trips and outings; however, with it being the dead of winter and no such trips to speak of, the camera sat in our home unused. Out of sheer curiosity and without realizing that one object could form a turning point to my story, I grabbed the camera as I walked out the door. From then on I turned to photography as a means to both disconnect with the stressors surrounding me and reconnect with my environment through a less subjective lens. Instead of allowing the negativity I was feeling to translate into how I viewed my surroundings, photography provided me a way to allocate my energy into observing the beauty that did exist.

Adele Sakey

Bishop Briggs

Gradually, I made an effort to integrate photography into my life in more substantial ways and as time progressed I began to cultivate a curiosity towards concert photography. Having been raised with a steady stream of Grateful Dead and Talking Heads resonating through my home, music was undeniably an important part of my life. It seemed like a worthwhile endeavor to combine my affinity for both music and photography; and so that’s precisely what I did.

Since venturing into the realm of concert photography I maintain my appreciation for what initially drew me in: getting to witness a sound come to life while capturing it in a visual form. I am grateful towards individuals and opportunities that all me to pursue something which, it its essence brings me joy. However, once you peel back the initial sense of pride garnered from capturing the perfect photo, I often feel what remains is a highly pressurized environment. In the beginning, it can be hard to effectively cope with this pressure. Unconsciously I began to compare my progress to that of other photographers, and from there receded into a sensation of utter incompetence. Eventually the aspect of excessive worry— worry that I wasn’t good enough, worry that I had no business doing what I was doing— took over and I started to feel out of place. This is a feeling I had experienced all my life, but for the first time I felt it in relation to photography.

There are moments when my mind only functions to fabricate negative outcomes; “catastrophizing” as my therapist calls it. Isn’t it peculiar that all you’re experiencing can be bottled up and labeled with one word? Catastrophizing. Often times there are so many improbable consequences that each one is individually indecipherable, yet all I can focus on is doing exactly that. My mind races at an immeasurable pace, and my body has no choice but to mimic it. There was one day I existed solely in this state. As I traversed from class to work and then to a photography job, I felt myself beginning to spiral. Even though I had ample time to get to each destination, as my mind raced faster the world appeared to spin along with it.

I’m fairly certain I even knocked over a newsstand as I rushed to catch a train that wasn’t arriving for another five minutes. In these moments I’m assuming I appear frantic and disheveled, so thereby I am frantic and disheveled. What I feel inside becomes who I am on the outside, and there is no convincing myself otherwise. Beyond that, when so much of making a name for yourself as a music photographer, or in the music industry for that matter, relies on meeting people and solidifying valuable connections, the disconnect from reality that occurs in ones of these anxiety stricken states creates a barrier.

Eventually the aspect of excessive worry— worry that I wasn’t good enough, worry that I had no business doing what I was doing— took over and I started to feel out of place. this is a feeling I had experienced all my life, but for the first time I felt it in relation to photography.”

Bleachers

Gnash

Tei Shi

Foster the People

Cage the Elephant

Jaymes Young

Torey Lanez

Maggie Rogers

That evening I remember sitting in a restaurant after the show and realizing not only was this the first time I had eaten that day, but it was also the first time I had stopped to breathe. I attribute this mostly to my focus on the destination as opposed to the journey. It is almost as if my vision narrows when I’m anxious. Just getting through the day in the quickest and most painless way becomes my priority. In reflection it seems simple to say “next time remember to ground yourself” or “stop to smell the roses”; however, when you’re caught between the crossfire of negative thoughts this concept quickly grows more challenging. I forget to eat. I forget to breathe. It’s a cycle. But it’s a cycle that becomes easier with time. I’ve become accustomed to noticing the small ways my mind a body initially begin to grow anxious. From there I divert my attention to something familiar - the sound of my neighbor’s arduous bagpipe practice, the chirping of birds, the bustle of foot traffic across the streets of Boston— something that pulls me back into earth’s gravity.

Although I’ve learned a great deal about managing my anxiety, there are still occasions when I drift too far out to pull myself back in: anxiety attacks. In these instances, whether prolonged or momentary, I feel exiled from reality and overcome with the suffocation of worry.

In my experience, more often than not, this worry is not even moderately relevant to my current situation. It could pertain to something that happened a decade ago, or perhaps nothing at all. For instance, there was a time I allowed my mind to innocently wander as I waited for a band to grace the stage. Somehow I decided to recall the instance when, in sixth grade, I accidentally pronounced the word “read” as “weed”. To an outsider this might seem mildly amusing yet insignificant; but to me this minuscule occurrence was able to spiral into a life or death scenario. Suddenly the sound of my camera’s shutter went off before I remembered releasing it and a security guard armed with the intimidating appearance of Pixies frontman Black Francis was scolding me for accidentally migrating into one square foot of restricted area. Although I was still in the same photo pit, at the same venue, I woke up with the feeling I was in an entirely different environment. Already in a state of unease, I began to hyperventilate at the thought of my whole career dissolving because for one second I was somewhere I wasn’t meant to be— mentally and physically.

As I write this I am forced to recall all the times in which I’ve experienced something of this nature. Some events are more vivid in my memory than others, but most share a common characteristic: I always find an excuse to cover my anxiety. No matter how irrelevant or unbelievable the excuse is, for some reason it seems less embarrassing than the real reason I want to go home. Why is it that I’m programmed to believe anxiety is embarrassing? What do I think will happen if I am honest? Will I lose the job if someone finds out? I don’t know. But what I do know is that I wouldn’t want to work for or alongside someone who would think less of me for being transparent; and I don’t want to continue contributing to the stigma surrounding mental health by omitting or ignoring the truth.

So I end this with a promise, to myself and to you, that I am done hiding beneath the covers of a stigma; and I believe my photography will be all the better because of this.

Written Words & Photography by Adele Sakey