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“I came into this world on the fringes, born of a broken love, marked and scared by a hurt set into motion long before my first breath.”  

I was born into a struggle I could not avoid, destined to be my life’s challenge, spending each and every moment convincing myself that I am worthy, that I am good enough;  good enough for me, good enough for them, good enough to have a place in this world. Thrust into a world without my parents present and accessible, I was introduced and dysfunctionally nurtured by this marginal state of being. I yearned for a sense of belonging, constantly questioning why and how, set on a journey with no map, going in no direction.

At my core was an empty spirit space, surrounded by walls built on mistrust, firmly held together by my fear of abandonment and no matter how I tried, no matter who else tried, nothing could repair the loss of that which I never had. I lived in a reactive state, with no sense of being, no real sense of self.

As a child, I imagined reality as I wanted it to be, the framework to a life built on constructs of a young mind. I found refuge in imagination, forged relationships with the inanimate and began to understand, relate to and converse with the physical world around me. Things were and just are; no pretense, no disappointment. I could understand them more than I could understand people, more than I could understand myself.

If you quiet your thoughts from all the external noise just enough to hear the  physical world’s echoing voice and see its true, enduring beauty, you’ll begin to understand the language of emotion. Where people could not speak to my soul authentically with this language, the physical environment spoke to me through color, and texture,  and shapes. This, I later came to realize, was and is the way through which I would speak to the world around me.

I found purpose in my passion for design, life-design; life designed. I found strength and assuredness in my creative voice. I began to feel worthy because a collective something was listening, speaking to me. I felt like I was not alone! My identity to that point was premised on who I came from, what they could not give and not on what I was born into; a world of extraordinary beauty with a higher consciousness that spoke to my spirit. I surrender to that voice!

I lived my pain, in the shadow of my self; faceless, voiceless, hiding in the shame of my parents past, limited in possibility by what I did not have. And only when I was able to find my language, to speak that language, was I able to hear my voice, resounding, loud and clear. I could intimately speak the language of my conscious self.

Underlying the beauty of things is a stream of emotion that transcends the physical and speaks to the soul.  A life, openly communicating with the physical space, the backdrop to life’s experiences, of each memory, is a life that allows the world around me to speak to me, about me – “I am not alone, you are not alone, and we deserve to be here, to be heard, to be happy.”

On this journey, find your voice within a life designed, one room at a time!

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