About Me

I’m Jeromy Laux. For a long time, if you asked me who I was, I would’ve handed you a résumé.

B.S. in Digital Cinematography. M.F.A. in Media Design from Full Sail. Director of Multimedia and Content Strategy at Wittenberg University. Awards, campaigns, polished videos, brand strategy decks. I built a life around telling stories — framing them, lighting them, editing them into something clean and compelling.

But the truth is, behind the camera, I was quietly falling apart.

June of 2025 changed everything. What looked like a “massive shift” from the outside felt like a collapse from the inside. The identity I had worked so hard to build couldn’t hold the weight of what I was carrying anymore. Anxiety. Depression. Old wounds I never named. Childhood stuff I had buried so deep I convinced myself it was just “drive” or “ambition.”

It wasn’t.

By October, I was in rehab.

That sentence still humbles me. It also saved my life.

Recovery has been less about fixing my career and more about finding myself. I’m working the 12 steps in AA, and for the first time in my life, I’m practicing honesty — the kind that doesn’t fit neatly into a LinkedIn bio. The kind that cracks you open.

In The Body Keeps the Score, there’s this idea that trauma isn’t just a story we tell — it lives in the body. I spent years trying to outwork what my nervous system was screaming at me. Turns out, no amount of productivity silences unhealed pain. Healing has meant slowing down enough to actually feel it.

There’s a line in The Secret Life of Walter Mitty that gets me every time: “To see the world, things dangerous to come to… to find each other and to feel.” I used to think adventure meant big projects, bold creative risks, professional leaps. Now I think the real adventure is turning inward. Sitting with the parts of myself I used to run from. Feeling what I never let myself feel.

And honestly, sometimes my old life feels like Severance. Like I split myself in two — the high-performing, hyper-capable creative professional and the guy who was struggling to get out of bed. Two versions of me who didn’t talk to each other. Recovery has been about reintegration. Letting my “innie” and “outie” become the same person. No more compartments. No more hiding.

Today, I still create. I still believe in the power of storytelling. I still lead, strategize, shoot, edit, design. But it’s different now. My work isn’t about proving something. It’s about connecting. It’s about telling stories that are honest — including my own.

I’m on an inward journey to heal childhood wounds, to learn how to live instead of just perform, to practice surrender instead of control. I don’t have it all figured out. But I’m showing up. I’m sober. I’m doing the next right thing.

If you’re here to look at my portfolio, I’m proud of it. Those stories matter.

But this — this is the story that matters most to me right now.