06/16/2025
It’s been just over 9 months since I’ve made anything — here it is, my first piece since my mom passed…
The Rising Woman.
I know what it’s like to lose yourself in survival mode, where simply breathing feels like a battle. Where exhaustion doesn’t just live in the body — it settles in the soul.
For me The Rising Woman is not perfect. She is messy. She has knots — complicated ones — formed by pain, trauma, grief, shame, fear, and everything in between.
Instead of hiding them or pretending they aren’t there, I’m learning to see them for what they are: evidence of survival. Proof of transformation. Markers of my strength.
I had found a lifeline in macrame, a new perspective. No longer was I creating just art — but space.
Space for truth.
Space for healing.
Space for others to rise too.
The Rising Woman doesn’t wait until she’s all put together.
She rises while still healing.
She reaches back even as she moves forward, offering her hand to anyone still treading water.
Just like her I know the fight. I know that there will be a freedom that comes when pretending “you’re fine” stops — and you start loving the story that made you.
She’s not the woman before the pain.
She is the woman because of it.
And that is the power in rising.
