For years, my creative process was overshadowed by the pressure of the end result. As a child, I filled my schedule with art classes, but I avoided technical or representational courses, intimidated by the idea of being measured against an objective standard. Afraid of not being good enough, not accurate enough, not liked enough, I unknowingly clipped my creative wings.

But as an adult, something shifted.

In my late thirties, something in me changed… realigned.

I can’t point to a single catalyst. A long-standing corporate career, the quiet awareness of middle age creeping up, undoubtedly the experience of motherhood, all played their part. But whatever cause it...I let go.

I stopped seeing my work through the imagined eyes of observers. I stopped measuring it against approval. The outcome was no longer the point. The practice of making, of showing up, experimenting, playing, and problem solving, became the purpose.