How to photograph when you are in a massive rut

And, a photo essay from Cambria

It’s been a little while! This past two months I hit a giant, gross wall with burnout. I keep hearing about the “Great Millennial Career Crisis” but make it medicine. This past 9 months I’ve been building up my photography practice while working in medicine, and it’s obviously not for the money. It’s for agency. What a lot of doctors in my cohort are looking for is time and agency — the ability to actually enjoy that career that we’ve spent a decade working toward. And what I also keep hearing is that they’ve made the money but (hear me out) feel trapped in brutal call schedules, RVU treadmills, and endless, endless phone calls at all hours.

A couple of months ago I hit this pretty hard. Found out what could change and not change. I then burrowed with seasons of Abbott Elementary. Took lots of walks after work. Turned off Instagram and Substack for a while. And started making art again. So I present: how to photograph when you are really burnt out:

1. Take photos of your old friends. I went to Philadelphia for a friend’s wedding and saw my parents and some of my oldest friends. Like most people who are from Philly, I freaking love Philly. I love walking everywhere, going to small bars, seeing Eagles murals everywhere. But really more than that, photographing here is connecting to my roots and being reminded that I do have long-term roots.

2. Make something to look forward to. I wanted to learn something really new. So after a lot of searching, I found a great mentor to teach me surf photography in LA. I cut back budget-wise on a lot of things to get water housing and fins. And I’m going to learn later this month!

3. Go for a little road trip. My go-to trip after an insane call weekend is Cambria, just an hour north. Easy to get to on the 101. My point and shoot in the back of the car. While I haven’t yet put my phone on DND (perhaps the ultimate luxury for a doctor), I do put it in silent. These are a couple of my favorite places — all shot on Gold 200, which is what I keep loading up here.

Hearst Beach — I read and journaled at Sebastian’s, the little general store right next door that’s been there since the 1850s. Get a sandwich, sit outside, watch the pier. The light here in the late afternoon goes soft and silver off the water — Gold 200 holds warmth even as the marine layer flattened everything out, which is why I love to shoot with it on the coast.

The elephant seals — A total spirit animal. Lying in the sun, not a care in the world, no 401k to worry about. The vista point is right off the 1, a few miles north of the pier. Can’t go down onto the sand, but there’s a great viewing deck.

The strawberry stand — There’s a roadside stand I pass every single time I’m up here, a hand-painted berry sign propped on the shoulder of the 1. I finally stopped. Pulled over, shot the boxes stacked under the striped awning, and bought a flat. I then had way more of that flat than I’d like to admit on the drive further up.

Moonstone Beach — This to me is the idea boardwalk walk at sunset. Pelicans come through in formation right at golden hour. I saved this one for last — the boardwalk runs the whole bluff, and film in that light is wonderful.

I hope everyone is taking care of themselves :) Burnout makes most of us less inclined to call friends, make art, and spend time outside. The struggle is so real, and not at all reflected in a bunch of Instagram photos. There's no great answer, but I can say that still making something, even infrequently, is one of the best things to do.