Happiness through stories

Because I am slimy and I am green. No one could ever love a sight unseen”

That was the final line of the first and last story that I can remember putting out into the world. I was in mr. Thomas’ fifth grade class and we were promoted to write a story to try to get published in the school newspaper. I had been writing stories for as long as I could remember so this was my time to shine. The story ended up winning an award and it was sent to a local publication which was sent out to all of the schools in the district. This was so amazing to me but also secretly terrifying because I grew up as an immigrant in Phoenix Arizona and that came with hidden traumas that I didn’t get to heal until I was older and thanks to those traumas, I tried to stay under the radar as much as possible. This meant writing and illustrating during recess at lunch and immersing myself in fantasy worlds that I would never share with others. Thanks to my stories I’ve been a wave in the ocean jumping to reach the moon, I’ve been a cloud in the sky, in love with a flower, sending raindrops as gifts, and in this particular story I was a lagoon who was once well loved, but forgotten and dirty. I didn’t realize it then, but I also felt like that lagoon. Alone, disgusting and unloveable. The only thing I had was a ballpoint pen and a piece of paper.

As time progressed, so did my illustrations and my sadness. Actively seeking mental health was unheard of in an immigrant household and to tell the truth, I wasn’t even aware. I continued to write until one day I just stopped. The fantasy lands I would conjure up couldn’t save me from the depression I was in so I decided not to even attempt to go. I thought this would be my lowest point but the universe always has a way of proving you wrong.

During this time I met my husband and we lived a good life, just the two of us but somehow I always had the dark cloud lingering over me. After a few years we decided to turn our party of two into a party of three and we had my son, Gords. After birth I was hit with postpartum depression and I realized that the feelings that were surfacing were old ancient relics of my old life. Back then, my happiness and my sanity were all in thanks to writing and creating but this time around I needed actual help. I actively tried to help myself and it wasn’t until my son was going to turn one that I felt like myself again. For the first time in forever I felt inspired again. The words poured out of me, but this time instead of unworthiness, broken heartedness, and despair I wrote about curiously, wonder and happiness!

I grabbed a ballpoint pen, a paper, my sons most recent arts and craft project and a pair of Fiskars scissors and went to work. What I ended up with was a book for my son about him, his favorite stuffed animal and a trip to the moon. I was reacquainted with my first love all over again, storytelling. Since then I’ve been writing and illustrating and I’ve been using all of my sons scraps to create books and one of a kind cards for friends and family.

Filling my work with color is something that I never dreamed of but thanks to unconditional love I was introduced to a whole new medium to work with. I love creating stories because now instead of using it to escape my dark reality, I use it to teach my son lessons about sharing, not being in a rush to grow and many other life lessons. I’m so fortunate to have been able to get passed the darkness in my life because now I am able to share my words and illustrations with others.