“Focus through your thoughts,” was repeated a billion times through my head at Naomi’s photoshoot. This photoshoot took a sharp turn into an important lesson for me as a photographer.

The bright sun woke me up that morning, glazing into my pitch-black room. My thoughts floated through my head like clouds in the sky as I began waking my sluggish body up for the day. Earlier that week, Naomi texted me about an interest she had with appearing on a local magazine cover. Naomi is so beautiful and has so much potential to earn a spot on the cover. Her hair is always the right kind of messy, her eyes reflect the light in just the right ways, and her bubbly smile lights up every room. She has been a model for years, but is always frightened about how each shoot will turn out. Why should a gorgeous young woman like her be so anxious?

              After I completed my eight-year morning routine, I headed to my studio. I race the traffic every morning, as my head went into the ‘what if’ scenarios: “If I leave at this time, then I will arrive at that time. But if there is traffic, I will arrive at that time.” This is similar to how my mind speaks before I rest my head on my pillow every night. The blasting music was the only thing interrupting my thoughts through the entire car ride.

The studio is always a sauna when I arrive, so turning on the millions of fans scattered in the room is always necessary. Then my mind just went on autopilot. ‘Turn on all of the lights, setup the camera, layout the backdrops, unlock the studio door.’ Just minutes after I finished setting up, Naomi strutted in, though not looking as confident as usual. We greet each other every time we have a session, but that time, it felt like an awkward first date. Not a word was spoken the entire session. My thoughts were jumbled, but I tried my best just to focus.

              Naomi’s beautiful, usually tan skin seemed paler than a ghost, and her eyes were tired. Those eyes glared into the camera, prepared. The fans blow in her face, forcing her thin brown hair to dance. Her wavy wisps of hair strangled her face as the camera stuttered the first few photos. Suddenly, her pearly white teeth were covered up by her lips as she smiled softly. This soft smile quickly turned into a worried grin, and then to a not-so-forced frown. I paused and looked at her. Naomi looked around the cavernous room in worry, like a distracted child in a classroom. Then she paused and turned into a ship in a rocky storm. Seconds later, Naomi tipped off the high-top chair. I stopped. My body froze like ice. Dial 9-1-1. The last thought I had before blaring sirens approach my studio. What just happened to Naomi? What just happened to me?

 The paramedics attempted to talk to me briefly upon arrival, but I could hardly get a word out. I quivered in fear as they took Naomi away on a stretcher. My confused body language explained everything to them. A second ambulance arrived, so I could be assisted as well. I hardly remember anything about the ride there other than my ears bursting from the loud sirens above my head. They did some tests on me in the ambulance, as my head ached. I wanted to calm down and focus, but somehow could not.

I walked into the hospital, peering through the windows to see the tragedies of other patients. I frowned worse than I ever had before. I suddenly noticed a familiar face. The brown shiny eyes drooped at me. The coffee bean hair, up in an effortless messy bun. The pale skin laid on the bright white sheet in the hospital bed. That was Naomi looking back at me. I felt the urge to go in and see her, but I was held back by the nurses. Before I knew it, I was laid on a hospital bed myself.

After several tests, the responders and nurses sent me home safely. I had merely experienced a panic attack, but I did not need to be concerned about it. One long week passed before I heard word from Naomi that she was safe and doing well. We talked for a couple of hours to catch up and reflect, and I am so glad we did.

Overall, Naomi and I concluded that we could not submit anything for the contest. The biggest let-down as a photographer is looking back at how hard you worked on something, but never got the ‘perfect outcome’ that was expected. I have come to understand that overthinking and stressing was not necessary to achieve beautiful outcomes. All that was needed was concentration and focus.