From Survival to Stability: The Day I Bought a Photo Printer

From Survival to Stability: The Day I Bought a Photo Printer

I bought a dedicated photo printer this week.

Not the flimsy kind that sounds like it is fighting for its life every time you hit print. A real machine. An Epson SureColor P800 now sits in my office, quietly doing its thing, ready to turn pixels into something you can actually hold.

Of course, I had to break it in properly. So I printed a photo taken during Artemis II.

A photo taken in space. Printed in my office.

That still feels ridiculous in the best way.

But this is not really about the printer.

It is about where I used to be.

Not that long ago, I could not afford food. Not in the “cutting back” kind of way. I mean every dollar had a job, and none of those jobs included feeding me. Bills came first. Whatever was left went to my dog, Cordelia. She ate. I figured the rest out.

Sometimes figuring it out meant going without. Sometimes it meant stealing.

Usually hot pockets. Packs of four. Four meals if you stretch it. Grocery stores turned into quiet missions where the goal was simple and very clear. Get food. Do not get caught. Leave.

At the time, it did not feel dramatic. It was just part of the routine. Another thing on the list. Survive today. Worry about tomorrow later.

I remember being asked once how that made me feel. Having to steal food just to get by. And I did not have an answer. I had to actually stop and think about it, because I had spent so long just getting through things that I never stopped to process any of it.

When I finally did, it hit harder than I expected.

Now fast forward a few years, and I am standing in my office buying a printer that exists purely for my photography. Not because I need it. Not because it solves a problem. Just because I want it.

And my brain still does not quite believe that timeline.

How do you go from counting coins and skipping meals to investing in something like this

I have said a lot of harsh things about my past self over the years. Blamed him for mistakes. Second guessed decisions. All of that. And some of it is fair. He got things wrong. Sometimes really wrong.

But he also dealt with things that were not easy. Not even close.

He kept going anyway. He figured it out, piece by piece, even when it was messy and imperfect. He did the work to get out of that place, even if he did not always do it the right way.

And now I am here because of that.

Not in spite of him. Because of him.

So yeah, this printer matters.

Not because it makes beautiful prints.

But because it reminds me just how far things can actually change.