Still here, still trying. This is my truth.
This is my truth. I often feel unseen. Invisible. Like no matter what I try to build, online or in person, I don’t have that magnetic presence people are drawn to. I’m often overlooked. And when you’re trying to build something real, something grounded in care and integrity, that hurts more than I like to admit. I have so much lived experience. My lived experience is layered and real. I have survived trauma in past relationships, including physical, psychological and financial abuse. I carry grief from a pregnancy that ended in the loss of my baby girl in 2023. I live with depression and anxiety and have for over sixteen years, and I take medication as part of caring for myself. I support my daughter as she navigates anxiety and the devastating loss of her father to suicide. I support my son through life with autism, ADHD and ODD, after nearly losing him in 2021 when he ate a plant from our garden and was poisoned. In 2022, I nearly lost my own life after haemorrhaging following a miscarriage. None of this defines me, but it deeply informs how I show up, how I hold space, and why I care so fiercely. I studied counselling because I genuinely want to help people. Art is my heart, and being an artist is hard. There’s a reason the starving artist cliché exists. So I combined the two and became an art therapist. I want to support people through grief, loss, trauma, anxiety, depression. I want to help neurodivergent kids, support parents, share strategies that actually help. I built the Wild Hearts community from a place of honesty and care. But when engagement is quiet, I question myself. What more can I give. What more do you need from me. I’m still here, still trying, still leading with heart.