Finding love, light, and hope through adversity

At 33, I was a married mother of two, building a life.

Then my mom killed herself.

My dad sank into a depression so deep he began trying to end his own life, and I spent every day fighting to save him.

I moved to another state to salvage my marriage, only to find myself a single mother of two in a new place—far from friends and community—struggling not just to survive, but to ensure that my boys thrived.

These are my stories of finding hope while feeling lost,
of seeing light in the darkness,
and of finding joy through sadness.

Finding joy through the sadness.

These are my stories of finding hope while feeling lost,
of seeing light in the darkness, and of finding joy through sadness.

Ocean wave crashing on sandy beach

My work is a reflection of resilience and renewal—combining the fluidity of waves, captured on iridescent aluminum, with reclaimed wood, once discarded and now made beautiful again. Each piece symbolizes transformation, showing that even what is broken can find new purpose and beauty.

Recent Stories

HOPE UNFOLDING
The Seed
The Seed

How many mornings did I fear what the day would bring?

Too many days filled with shock, sadness, and grief filled the pages of my calendar leaving me in a constant state of fight or flight. So many years of life events unplanned, upending the dream life I worked so hard to create. There are now years between those traumatic events giving me space to heal and reflect on all of the beauty that found its way onto those pages too.

A Love Story and Gun Control
A Love Story and Gun Control

They were his coping mechanism, and they would be the death of her.
Caught in between it all was a little girl who feared them, yet was taught they were what kept her safe. Guns.
A 22. A Glock. A sawed-off shotgun.

My earliest memory of a gun is staring into the barrel of a sawed-off shotgun. I was too little to get into our jacked up 1974 Ford pickup from the passenger side.

Finding Joy
Finding Joy

“Are you able to feel joy?” asked my therapist.

“No,” I responded as I wished for tears to pour from my eyes because any emotion would give me the hope that I may return back to the living. At the time, I felt like the walking dead. The world still turned, but I was a ghost only able to observe the living, and I found their ability to smile or cry fascinating.

They made it look so easy.