This is a story about the unexpected way I became a photographer.

It was a hot autumn day in Florida. It was my last year of being a teenager, and I was feeling pretty dejected. I had previously been living a pretty hot-shot life after getting scouted to be a fashion model at 16. I had traveled to Milan for work, lived in New York City for work, and was now back in South Florida living at my parents’ house, working at Ultimate Burrito and studying philosophy at community college. This was my second time trying community college — I had already dropped out once (typical philosophy student if you ask me… “what’s the point of it all?”).

Anyway, life was actually pretty good after the high-fashion life. I no longer cared about my weight, I could eat fries without wanting to throw them up, I was back with my true friends I’d grown up with who I loved and who genuinely loved me in return. I liked my shitty job and I liked my “shitty” life. My friends and I would go to Andy’s Bar down the road to play pool and drink regularly. No one had a future to look forward to then, and we all found solace in each other’s company.

Then one day, while I was at my parents’ house, I needed to clip my toenails. Just a regular day in the regular life of Andreyna. I went into my parents’ room, rummaged through my dad’s top drawer where he kept the nail clippers (my whole life there was only one pair of nail clippers for the household and they belonged solely inside my dad’s top drawer), and found something else. This day, something was different. My dad had just come back from Spain — my great uncle had recently passed away and he’d left a few things behind for my dad to take. What I found in that drawer changed my life forever.

Instead of nail clippers, I found a Yashica TL-Super with a 50mm lens. That’s a 35mm film camera, and it single-handedly changed my life.

Since I was a little girl, I had taken a liking to photography. But all my life I’d only ever borrowed my dad’s camera or used my own shitty point-and-shoots. I’d long enjoyed making movies and music videos with my friends — so much of my childhood was spent filming things, taking photos of my dogs, my friends, my room, and making really, really bad horror films. It never occurred to me that I could actually turn this into a career. Never in my entire life did that even cross my mind… until that day.

I hadn’t considered taking photos professionally because I imagined SLRs and DSLRs to be completely out of reach for me — too expensive, I didn’t know where to start, and I lacked the courage to spend money I didn’t have on something that might not pay off. But in finding this camera, that decision was made for me. I didn’t have to think. All of a sudden I had my in. I had an SLR and it didn’t matter which one. I had my first professional piece of equipment and I didn’t even have to pay for it. With this camera I thought, “finally I could make amazing, worthwhile art.” In my mind, I immediately went from zero to hero and I was ready to shoot my shot, literally and figuratively.

The semester was about to start, and I enrolled in a film photography class as an elective. I bought as many rolls of film as I could afford on my minimum-wage job and shot everything I could: dead chickens at work, traffic on the highway, my parents and house, our dogs, my friends, old buildings, broken windows, the Everglades — anything. Every time I developed a roll of film I was disappointed in the results, so I’d go harder. I was determined to bridge the gap between the images I saw in my head and what I was getting back from the lab. I started to shoot the images I saw in my daydreams and visions. I organized themed shoots with friends, shot portraits, and eventually I dropped out of college again and moved to New York City to crash on a friend’s couch. Living the dream.

I shot feverishly. I shot so much in a year the camera broke. I wouldn’t leave the apartment without it. I watched documentaries about photographers, I studied photographers, visited museums weekly, I studied films and lighting, and every time I got back a roll from the lab I’d be a little less disappointed. Eventually I upgraded to a used DSLR — in my mind, I’d gone full pro (it was a Nikon D40 with a kit lens, mind you) — but I was unstoppable. I shot my first paid gig with that camera. I got through my first year of film school with that camera (I actually graduated this time), and eventually I outgrew its specs and upgraded to a D90. Now I could shoot video as well. The rest is history, as they say.

That was nearly 20 years ago, and I genuinely don’t know what I’d be doing if I hadn’t found that camera back in 2008. I was so lost in my life; I had no direction at all, and somehow finding that camera placed me on a one-way track I’ve never gotten off since. Something clicked when I found it, something unlocked within. Photography saved me then and it keeps saving me now. It’s been my constant in a life full of major changes. It’s a love that doesn’t fade and doesn’t stop giving. Photography still brings me a sense of joy and aliveness that I don’t get doing anything else, except when I share meaningful conversations and laughter with my daughter, a family member, or a close friend. It’s my lifeline — my loved ones are my lifeline too. It’s my source of connection, of inquiry, of observing and trying to make sense of the world. In a way, it’s helped me build my own philosophy in life, based around art, its importance for the human condition, and our individual sense of contentment.

I’ve been very lucky in this life. This is one stroke of luck I often think about. Without it, I don’t know where I’d be. Probably dead.