For years, I convinced myself I wasn't an artist—the fear of not being "good enough" kept me from trying. Instead, I found joy in supporting my children's creativity: musicals, plays, pottery classes, all of it. But when I was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis, I needed something of my own—a place to quiet both my mind and body.

Then life changed. My kids grew up, I retired, and that old artistic pull resurfaced stronger than ever. I picked up a paintbrush and an art journal, taught myself through online classes and relentless practice, and discovered mixed media as my voice. Suddenly I had a sanctuary—a way to work through fatigue, brain fog, and the harder days.

Now, I'm proud to call myself an artist. And my real hope? That my work inspires you to try something you never thought you'd love. Maybe you'll find a passion you didn't know was waiting for you, just like I did.