There’s a certain kind of vulnerability that comes with allowing yourself to be seen, not just as a photographer or artist, but as a woman learning to exist comfortably in her own body again.

This year, I made the decision to submit a series of self-portraits to Nude Nite St Pete, an experience that honestly challenged me in ways I never expected. What started as simply creating art became something much deeper: a journey through grief, healing, vulnerability, acceptance, and ultimately, learning to see beauty in myself again.

From taking the photos, to hitting submit, to eventually standing in a gallery seeing it hang on the wall surrounded by strangers, it was emotional, terrifying, empowering, and healing all at once.

This post contains artistic imagery featuring partial nudity.

Creating the Images: Learning to See Myself Again

After four breast reconstruction surgeries last year, I decided it was finally time to begin accepting this new version of my body. These photos became my way of moving forward, of acknowledging the pain, the grief, the anger, and everything that came with this journey, while also deciding it was time. Time to love my body again. Time to feel grateful that I am still here. That I get to watch my daughter grow up, create art, laugh with my friends, and continue living this beautiful life that at one point felt so uncertain.

I chose to create self-portraits because I knew I needed the space to fully feel whatever came up during the process. I didn’t tell anyone what I was planning besides my incredible hair and makeup artist, who came over simply to tame my wild hair and help me feel a little more like myself that day.

The experience ended up being far more emotional than I expected. Harder, heavier, more vulnerable. I cried a lot. There were moments of grief for the version of myself I once knew, moments of discomfort in seeing how much my body had changed, but also moments of deep gratitude and strength. And I think that’s part of embracing life’s journey….allowing yourself to hold both the pain and the beauty at the same time.

The Hardest Part: Choosing to Be Seen

For a moment, I completely chickened out on this part.

At one point, I decided no one would ever see these photos but me. Not many people know this about me, but before boudoir photography became such a huge part of my life, I spent a lot of time participating in art shows. There’s something incredibly fulfilling about creating art purely for yourself and then getting the chance to see it hanging on a gallery wall surrounded by strangers connecting to it in their own way. It’s such a vulnerable and beautiful experience.

But this felt different.

These photos carried a much deeper emotional weight for me, and I wasn’t sure I was ready for anyone else to see them. They weren’t just photographs. They held grief, fear, healing, anger, survival, and acceptance all tangled together.

In the end, I decided to be brave.

I kept thinking about other women who might be struggling with the same insecurities, grief, or complicated relationship with their bodies. And I thought maybe, just maybe, someone walking through that gallery might see themselves reflected in those images and leave appreciating their own body just a little bit more.

Choosing which photos to submit felt almost agonizing. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to show the pain and grief I had experienced or the version of me that was still showing up despite all of it. In the end, I submitted one of each.

Seeing My Work on the Wall at Nude Nite

Getting the email that one of my submissions had been accepted felt a little surreal. I was beyond thrilled for about five seconds before immediately thinking, Oh my goodness… I’m going to be naked on a wall for so many people to see. Did I really just sign up for this?

But the thing about Nude Nite is that it’s not about nudity. It’s about art, vulnerability, humanity, healing, and storytelling. I had to keep reminding myself of that.

Still, all of those emotions I had about submitting the images came rushing back tenfold. Except now, my work had been shipped off, it was hanging on a wall at Nude Nite St. Pete, and I was about to walk into a room full of strangers and see it displayed publicly for the very first time.

To be honest, I think this part terrified me the most.

What if someone recognized me?
What if someone said something negative while I was standing there?
Would I even want to look at the image myself?
Maybe I could just avoid that entire section of the gallery altogether.

I genuinely debated not going.

But deep down, I knew seeing it on the wall was going to be an important part of my healing. Allowing other people to see them was also a part of my own acceptance. My own way of saying: this body is still worthy of being seen.

The nervousness didn’t start to fade until I actually walked through the gallery. I didn’t know exactly where my piece would be displayed, so I just followed the flow of the crowd until suddenly, right there in the middle of everything…there it was.

And honestly?

I was proud.

Not ashamed.
Not embarrassed.
Not scared.

Just proud.

Maybe healing isn’t about returning to who we once were. Maybe it’s about learning to love the person we’ve become.