When We Speak, We Heal

For a long time, I didn’t think my story was something I could share. It felt too complicated. Too messy. Too much. I’d look at everything I’d been through, the long road of healing, the ways my dreams had to shift around a body that doesn’t always cooperate, and I’d think, “Who would want to hear all this?” I worried that being honest about living with chronic illness and disability would push people away. That I’d be met with silence, misunderstanding, or judgment. So I kept a lot of it inside.

But something changed as I started meeting more people. Not all at once, but slowly, through conversations, connection, and community. I began to learn something that changed everything: Sharing our stories isn’t about being heard by everyone, but about being understood by someone. And that kind of connection? It’s powerful.

When we speak openly about what we’ve lived through—the grief and the grit, the lonely nights, the tiny victories, the joy that comes from surviving—it creates space. Space for others to feel less alone, space for truth, and space for healing.

In a world that often measures our worth by productivity or physical strength, telling the truth about our lives can feel radical. But it’s also necessary. Because when we speak our truth, we’re not just telling our story. We’re saying, “I’m still here. I still matter.”

For me, art has always been my way in. Through writing, drawing, and creating collages, it’s how I make sense of the things I can’t always say out loud. It’s one of the reasons I started this business—to create something that goes beyond products or posts. I wanted to build a space where our stories could live. Where you could feel seen, heard, and honored. Whether it’s a resource that speaks to your experience, a blog post that reminds you you're not alone, or a piece of art that makes you pause and feel something, every part of this space is rooted in the belief that your story matters.

Because this isn’t just about me. It’s about us. It’s about the quiet, powerful moments when someone says, “me too.” About the strength that comes from naming what we’ve been through, and the courage that rises in the spaces where we let our guards down.

Your story might feel heavy. It might feel complicated, but it’s not too much. It’s enough. You are enough.

And every time you show up—whether it’s through words, through art, through stillness, or simply by getting through the day—you’re helping build something sacred. A world where we don’t have to hide our pain to feel worthy. A world built on connection, not perfection.

So thank you for being here, for being you, and for letting your story breathe.

May we all keep telling our truths and creating space—for each other, and for ourselves.