I have lived with spastic quadriplegic cerebral palsy since I was ten months old.
It shaped my body early, but it never quieted my mind.

I’ve been writing for as long as I can remember—since words first learned how to line up and make sense of my inner world. Writing became my first language of freedom, my way of moving through places my body could not always go. From poetry to stories, fragments to full-bodied ideas, creation has always been how I breathe.

I am also a mother of three and a grandmother of nine. These roles have shaped my sense of time, patience, and tenderness. They’ve taught me how creativity lives not only in art but in care—in showing up, in listening, and in imagining futures for the people we love.

My creative process is layered and intuitive.
I write.
I draw.
I imagine.

I collaborate with tools like Suno AI for music and imagery, using them the way one might use a camera, a paintbrush, or an instrument—as extensions of vision, not replacements for it.

For me, AI is not about shortcuts—it is about access. It allows me to reach creative places I could not always physically go and helps reduce physical and cognitive strain. AI helps me conserve my energy, allowing me to show up more consistently in my creative work—and still have the time, presence, and heart for the most important thing in my life: my family.

At the heart of my work is creative coping.

I believe creativity is not just expression—it is survival, integration, and repair. It is how we make sense of pain without being consumed by it. How we process disability, grief, love, limitation, desire, and resilience. Creating has been one of my most powerful tools for healing, self-understanding, and connection.

This space exists as both a showcase and a sanctuary.
A place to share what I make—and why I make it.
A place to explore creativity from a wheelchair view.
A place where art is allowed to be imperfect, evolving, and deeply human.

Welcome.
I’m glad you’re here.