perfect timing

I stepped away from social media by choice. That distance brought a surprising sense of peace—the knowing that I can step in and out of the noise when I need to.

What unfolded in my life, however, was anything but quiet.

I found myself deep in a process that required physical effort, endurance, and far more emotional honesty than I expected. The work stripped things down to the studs—externally and internally. Fatigue surfaced. Tender places around my body, my limits, my expectations. Control issues rose up in obvious and uncomfortable ways. I could feel how tightly I grip when things don’t go according to plan, and how much practice it takes to loosen that grip and surrender.

What surprised me most was how quickly the outer labor became inner excavation.

As things were torn apart around me, I began to burrow inward—exploring shadowy corners, asking hard questions, staying curious instead of running. It was messy. Uncomfortable. And also deeply meaningful. This kind of work asks for patience and presence. It doesn’t offer neat conclusions, but it does offer truth. I want this kind of digging to matter. I want what’s uncovered to lead to growth, possibility, and real change. Healing doesn’t happen by keeping the difficult parts buried. It happens when we’re willing to bring them into the light, to look honestly, and to witness ourselves without flinching.

So I’m moving forward with clarity—not rigid promises, but intention. I know how I want to feel: vibrant, healthy, whole. When anger, grief, sadness, or fear show up, my commitment is to stay. To feel instead of flee. And when I fall short of that—and I will—I’ll meet myself with grace.

This is the work. Continuing to tend the inner landscape while embracing all of it—the beauty, the discomfort, the unraveling. Remembering that it’s often in the messy middle where the real magic and healing live.

If this message resonates, I invite you to explore the artwork in my shop. Each piece is created as a visual anchor for moments of transition—reminders to trust the unfolding, even when the path isn’t clear. You can view the collection and find the piece that speaks to you there.