Asking my future In-laws to help me go to school.

I started college in late 2013, and shortly after my father chose his education over mine. He’d started a program for his Master’s in Social Work (incredible irony) and had a few years left. Initially, he’d drive me to campus–we just moved across the country from Alaska to South Carolina with a uhaul and one car, I had no driver’s license or nearby public transit. I couldn’t take online classes with any consistency because he and/or my mother would turn off the modem at random; if they were mad, if they just felt like it, if they wanted a reaction. It was an abusive and unsupportive environment I had to get away from.

At the same time, I was that much closer to my partner in New York and his family. If I could plead my case maybe they could help, so we started planning how I could approach them. I’d visited them before but we didn’t have much of a relationship outside of that, and regardless this was a big ask. Could I afford it, would I even be accepted? Would his family accept me? I thought talking to my parents would help, but instead did everything they could to discourage me. Eventually, we made the call and I laid out my plans; I’d found a few schools and nearby public transit, but none of them had dorms. They asked if I was even prepared for it, how I could make it work etc.. I begged them to let me at least stay long enough to see If I was accepted. That I would go back home if it didn’t work out and I’d do everything I could to stay out of the way while I was there. Understandably, they were very hesitant and didn’t give me an answer right away. How could I ask for so much from a family that barely knew me?

It was early 2014 when his parents said yes. Even if it didn’t work out, they would let me try–it’s the greatest gift I’ve ever been given. My parents would continue to discourage and belittle me even after I left. Fast-forward a few weeks and my application was accepted. I took the bus every day, and dedicated my entire being to doing well in school, and even found a part-time job on campus. While my professors had no idea what it took for me to get here, they were always supportive and encouraging–I did my very best for them, too. In 2015, the school announced it’s closure due to financial difficulties–they would finish “teaching out” students already enrolled but would close shortly after in 2018. You can probably imagine how scary this felt. Despite everything, I graduated in May 2017 with a BFA in Graphic Design. My parents refused to attend my graduation, I learned to drive and got my license, I found a job in August. I felt like I finally earned the trust my partner’s family had placed in me. This really was the catalyst for everything that followed.

I started drawing when I was very young, mostly fantasy things like unicorns, elves and fairies. As a military family, you move around a lot and there’s no real sense of stability or permanence in childhood. One of my coping mechanisms was video games, especially with JRPGs where you’d meet a cast of characters that would become your friends in the effort to ‘save the world’ or some such goal. Of course, after spending many hours you eventually reach the end and have to say goodbye–my first experience with this was playing Chrono Trigger on Super Nintendo. It was really hard for me because I already had to say goodbye to friends after 2-3 years in real life, but now the video game characters would leave, too. I started drawing to see them again, no goodbyes if I could bring them back on paper. I did this again and again with Zelda, when I watched Sailor Moon for the first time and felt empowered as a little girl. These fictional characters gave me the comfort I was missing in my actual life, and are still very important to me to this day, though I can’t listen to the Chrono Trigger soundtrack without getting emotional.

In the early 2000s I made a DeviantArt account, and discovered a whole world of art. There was so much more out there than I ever expected, and I was immediately hooked. I learned about different styles, connected with people around the world, felt seen and appreciated for the work I shared. I met Nermeena, a wonderful artist and friend that lived a world away from me in Egypt. We started to draw together on OpenCanvas 1.1 and she would teach me all about digital art–layers, shortcuts, effects and brushes, so many things. She encouraged me from the very beginning when all I could draw with was a mouse. Eventually, I saved up for a refurbished Wacom tablet and could finally draw “better” alongside her. Nermeena and I drew together for many years, though we’ve been out of touch for a little while I will always think of her fondly.

I took my very first commission around this time, from SpiritFingers, a wonderful writer also sharing their work on dA. I was really surprised because I enjoyed their writing so much and didn’t expect to be noticed (this is a common problem for me.) It was a lot of pressure but an eye-opening experience I’m grateful they trusted me with. Spirit and I connected for what feels like too short a time, but I hope they’re doing well regardless.

I also started playing Final Fantasy XI around this time and took a lot of commissions for fellow players’ characters. This little community led me to a few long-standing friendships that pushed me to be better in art and as a person, and was the first time I dared to believe art could be my job for real. In reality, it was barely enough to buy a few groceries at the time but I kept this up for years. However, there comes a certain point in drawing for others that you begin to obsess over what everyone else likes or wants, and lose sight of yourself. This happened many times over until I reached a point during college where I was faced with the question, “what do you want to do with your art?” It sent me into a spiral of questioning everything I’d been doing up till that point–I had no idea what I wanted to do! The answer I arrived at has changed many times since then, but always circles back to the same concept in the end. I wanted connection. To connect to others, have them connect with me.

It’s only been in the last few years that I’ve genuinely started to find my sense of purpose in art. When I started drawing fairies for Inktober, the month-long challenge to draw in ink during October, I didn’t think much of it. Then I did it the next year. Then I just wanted to draw fairies all the time, it felt like I’d found something I lost a long time ago. Eventually I compiled enough for a coloring book–but was I even good enough to make something like that? I’d been working at my graphic design job for a few years and trying to make art outside of that job was difficult. I’ve never had a large following online, if I tried to sell something like that would it even work out? Would anyone care? I cared. I started my patreon the same month I started that job, but it never garnered the same consistency and pay. Even though I tried to do both I ultimately couldn’t and it didn’t go very far for a long, long time. I’d even tried streaming once a month and it proved too much for me, how could I entertain the thought of making a coloring book? I shared snippets of ideas and was met with such supportive feedback that I made the cover and logo at work and something felt right, even though it was scary.

Then the pandemic happened and everything turned upside down, and yet rightside up. It’s hard to explain without feeling a sense of guilt as it caused so much pain and suffering for so many people. For me, however, I was suddenly given this time I didn’t have before. Working a 9-5 for so many years and suddenly having 2 weeks off, and then a month. And then beginning efforts to become fully remote, only working two days a week. I had time to draw again. I had time to realize I hadn’t slowed down since 2014, and it was strange and wonderful at the same time. I started trying to stream again.

That year I made a digital edition of my coloring book, it didn’t sell very much but it was enough to push me for more. I started sharing my goals and dreams with this newfound community through streaming, which made it feel okay to share on my patreon. It was like being given permission to chase a dream I gave up on for the stability of college to career pipeline. The next year, I started therapy and it gave me the courage to make a stream schedule alongside my full-time turned part-time job. I watched it grow as I did, and it became this simultaneous journey of healing and rediscovery, connecting with people in a way I didn’t think I could. It felt like being able to start over was okay. It was the same year I started my webcomic, Poppy. A little fairy starting their journey through PTSD and what it can look and feel like on the outside, how it might make others suffering with it (like myself) feel seen and heard.

In 2022, which I’ll herald as one of the best years of my life, I signed up for a freelance course to help ease myself into a new reality. I quit my job, but I’ll get to that later. a friend helped me start making fairy stickers. I’ve held prints of my work through school projects and a small handful of zines, but never any merch. I felt an energy I didn’t have before. The next thing to make had to be fairy-themed too, a calendar. I was invited to be a part of StreamINK, another version of a month-long creative challenge specifically for streamers, and it grew our little community even more. One of my favorite games, Chrono Cross got a remaster I never expected, I shared it with my community and then later shared Chrono Trigger with them too. It felt like the year carried me through time and time again, the more I tended to this garden of opening up and self-discovery the more it rewarded me. I feel I owe my community so much in the many ways they’ve allowed me to be the vulnerable version of myself I’d spent so many years pushing down to survive.

2023 was hard. When I think about last year I want so badly to focus on the good moments, the milestones and personal victories. I’d made that calendar at the end of 2022, and it carried me into the new year full of hope. I joined illustration contests for the first time since I was a teenager–I didn’t win, but I was happy I tried. I redesigned the coloring book and logo, and made physical versions of it that sold well. I tried so many new things last year that I’d not dared before; revamping my patreon entirely to maintain my health and become more project focused, hosted watch parties in discord, organized stream subathons to support myself and my partner’s family. Midway through the year, they were hit with an enormous property tax bill and I knew I had to do everything I could to help them. I devoted shop sales and all of my commission work, even a 3-day subathon into helping them cover it. While they would never ask me to do so, it felt like I finally had a way to give back at least a fraction of what they’d given me to be where I am now. Unfortunately, this also deteriorated my mental health in such a way that I had to take time off. I want to remember all the positive things about 2023 but this portion weighs heavily in my mind as well.

Still, there were breakthrough moments and I even started writing more stories and talking about my goals with finding an agent, (still trying to be brave about that). Creating projects like an inclusive fairy-themed tarot deck and really deep diving into meaningful work that others could see themselves in. That connection with others is so important to me–I want you to see yourself and feel the love pouring out for you. If I can achieve that, I can be proud of myself.

I mentioned earlier that I decided to quit my job in 2022. There were a lot of reasons leading up to this, but I wanted to be prepared regardless and stay fast to it. I’d been working at this graphic design job since 2017, it was a small business and didn’t pay much but I was grateful to have it. That college to career pipeline we’re ingrained with from a young age made me feel like this is what I had to do, looking for another 9-5 felt like the only choice I could ever make from this point onward. I chose this path when I begged to come to New York for school.

At the start of the pandemic they closed the office for 2 weeks initially. I’d had a new job lined up at the end of March and was ready to go, but I’m sure none of us expected what transpired after that first announcement. The new job wanted me to come in on-site and refused to take any precautions surrounding the pandemic, so I decided to decline the offer. I explained this to my current job and it eventually led to my boss telling us to apply for unemployment–but we weren’t out of a job. For the next few years I’d be relying on very meager paychecks from my job in addition to unemployment, until it was going to run out. My coworker and I, both graphic designers with the same job title and responsibilities, planned out a raise negotiation; her rent was going up and unemployment ending. Of course, there was pushback and supposed “shock” from our meeting with them, but we pursued it for weeks until they finally claimed that they couldn’t afford even a fraction of what we were paid before the pandemic–we had asked for less than this anyway, but they still couldn’t or didn’t want to. Whatever the reasoning, I’d already told my coworker that I was going to quit if it didn’t pan out, and that they could give her my paycheck if they can’t give us both a raise. So that’s what happened, I told them I’d be done by the first week of June and wouldn’t work for them anymore. I was afraid, but I knew I had to make this choice not just for myself but for my coworker as well–her rent really was going up and my partner’s family doesn’t ask us for anything.

I want you to be able to see yourself. No matter who you are, how you identify or appear, how you may feel about yourself. I want you to see yourself and feel loved with my work. Representational work is very important to me not just for accuracy in portrayal, but to also send a feeling to you, the viewer. I want to comfort you and make you feel held in a way that celebrates who you are now and in the future. We are always changing, every second of every day even if it’s slow, but I want to show everyone that happens to see my work that they are valued and loved as they are, as they change and grow. These are pretty lofty and amorphous goals I think, but they are a driving force in the work I create.

You are so, so important, and I hope you continue to grow for a long time.