Overcoming Fear: From Scaffolds to Portrait Photography

This morning I noticed Cassity featured our Beach Cottage Bedroom at Remodelaholic—what a lovely surprise. A few years ago I had an unsettling reminder of how fear can stop you in your tracks. When workers came to paint the siding on our previous house, they left scaffolding set up to reach the higher areas. One scaffold happened to be perfectly placed next to my living room windows, which I’d never cleaned from the outside.

I’m not great with ladders. I’d always blamed that on a stubborn fear of heights, but I told myself I could manage a quick climb to wash those windows. I gritted my teeth, climbed carefully, and by the time I reached the scaffold platform my legs felt like jelly. Still, I washed the windows and enjoyed the sparkling new view.

Then it was time to come down. Suddenly I was terrified. I couldn’t swing my legs over onto the ladder’s first rung. My body shook, my family laughed, and I laughed too, but I was frozen. I remember my husband having to coax me over the railing and help me down—safe, but humiliated and relieved. I vowed never to clean those windows again.

That incident wasn’t just about heights. I realized the same paralyzing fear shows up in other areas of my life—especially photography.

My Photography Paralysis

I love photography. I study images, took a course, experiment with different lighting like blue hour shots, and try to take photos for this blog almost every day. But when it comes to people pictures—portraits—something in me freezes. I know the kinds of portraits I want to create, but I can’t always get there. I am often paralyzed by the fear of failing at photography.

About a year ago a friend asked if I would take her daughter’s graduation photos. At the time I agreed, perhaps because the date felt far away and the task seemed manageable. As the session approached, doubt crept in. I worried, “What if the photos don’t turn out?” and “What if I can’t get the light right?” I seriously considered backing out. These were friends; they would understand if I admitted I was no longer comfortable taking people pictures.

Then I realized this was another “scaffold and ladder” moment. If I wanted to take the portraits I dreamed about, I couldn’t keep avoiding the challenge. How would I ever learn if I refused to try?

So I took a deep breath, showed up, and gave it my best shot.

The Session

Seeing my subject come out in a cloud of yellow ruffles was pure delight. As the mother of three boys, my home doesn’t usually host that kind of frilly grace, so I enjoyed every moment. The field behind the house was dotted with buttercups, and she was relaxed and game for creative ideas. We explored different spots—by the dock, in the field—and she trusted my direction, which made my job easier and more fun.

The little shoes she wore were charming, and they added character to many of the images. I shot a lot—168 frames—and while not every photo was a keeper, several turned out beautifully. More importantly, the experience was joyful. Pushing past my fear felt rewarding, and I learned from every shot.

What I Learned

Fear can be immobilizing, whether it’s standing on a scaffold or approaching a portrait session. The key lesson for me was that action dissolves anxiety more effectively than avoidance. Every learning step—preparing, practicing, making mistakes, and reviewing results—builds confidence.

If you relate to this, try a few simple strategies: start small, practice often, ask for feedback, and approach each session as a learning opportunity rather than a pass/fail test. Trust your subjects, communicate clearly, and focus on capturing real moments instead of chasing perfection. Over time, the fear loses its grip and is replaced by creative momentum.

Final Thoughts

I’m grateful I didn’t chicken out. The session reminded me that doing the scary thing is often the only way to grow. Did all my photos become masterpieces? No. Was the session worth it? Absolutely. I hope others who struggle with fear—whether in photography or any other pursuit—will take that step, even when their legs feel like jelly.

Thank you to KG and her family for trusting me to be part of this special moment.

Have you faced a similar fear? How did you move past it and toward confidence?