How My Journey Began

The Beginning

Even as a kid, I was constantly looking for a way out of my own skin. I found it in chasing the impulse to create. That was my silent protest against a world that was just too loud and too much to handle. While everyone else chased the popular thing, I would simply withdraw. I was happiest alone, completely lost in my own head. Crayons, paint, markers, getting my hands messy—it didn't matter. That time, when I could just disappear into my imagination, that was my sanctuary. It was my lifeline, the engine that kept me running.

My resume is a jumbled collage of roles: stay-at-home mom, teacher, art teacher, reading specialist. Just grinding, trying to appear functional. But underneath all the titles, I was fighting a private battle—a slow war of pain, anxiety, and full-blown panic. I became a pro at camouflage. I showed up, I taught the class, I made dinner, but I was absolutely suffering in silence.

The Turning Point

I finally hit a wall and knew I had to figure this out. I started piecing together clues in my own body. After endless doctor visits—where some just shrugged and others were quick to dismiss it as "stress"—I finally got a diagnosis: fibromyalgia. That was a small relief, I guess, but then they dropped the kicker: a birth defect making my heart irregular, just piling onto the constant physical ache. They offered pills, but my gut screamed no.

That freedom—that permission slip—it didn't just feel good; it sent me running headfirst back to art. Even more powerfully, I found the courage to let my words and experiences flow onto paper. The moment I finally let myself create again, absorbing the process fully, it was this sudden, overwhelming wave of happiness, peace, and quiet beauty. I realized I hadn't just lost art; I'd lost me. Now, art and writing aren't just pastimes; they've become this crucial, non-negotiable tool for finding my center. It's what gave me the strength to finally stand up and embrace my authentic self, no matter what anyone thought.

The Return To Creativity

That freedom—that permission slip—it didn't just feel good; it sent me running headfirst back to art. Even more powerfully, I found the courage to let my words and experiences flow onto paper. The moment I finally let myself create again, absorbing the process fully, it was this sudden, overwhelming wave of happiness, peace, and quiet beauty. I realized I hadn't just lost art; I'd lost me. Now, art and writing aren't just pastimes; they've become this crucial, non-negotiable tool for finding my center. It's what gave me the gu to finally stand up and embrace my authentic self, no matter what anyone thought.

Teetering Between Light and Dark

The focus of my journey is simply sharing the intricate, unfolding process. I put my poems and my art out there on the website and social media. These aren't products; they're evidence of the journey, mile markers of the peace I found by letting myself create.

My motto these days is a lot more honest: "I teeter between the light and dark. For sometimes, we must unearth the darkness, to truly become the light."

Healing isn't all sunshine and simple fixes. It means having the courage to dig up the shadow parts—the anxiety, the trauma, the sheer struggle—and looking at them honestly. When you pull the darkness into the light, you can finally integrate it. By sharing this complex, honest journey, my hope is to show people they can embrace their whole self, chaos and all, as they search for their own way back to peace.

My Hope

If my art, my poems, or my story encourages even one person to start their own convoluted journey of discovery and healing, that’s everything. Just remember: even in the quietest moments of creation, and especially when you’re unearthing the dark parts, you have the immense power to move toward the light—for yourself, and maybe even for someone else.