The first time I remember my anxiety being more than just ‘the shy kid’ was when my sister and I went to a gymnastics class. I was about 7 while my sister was 5. I was so excited about it, I loved dance, I love gymnastic I couldn’t wait to go until we got there. While we were signing up my sister went running in without a care in the world. I had a melt down. I couldn’t go in there to a space I didn’t know with people I didn’t know. I would go every week with my mum and sit in the observers box watching my sister have the time of her life, wanting to be a part of the fun but not being able to go into the hall. I started hurting myself on purpose when I was 7.

Skip forward a couple of years I started at boarding school when I was 9. While my sister ran in excited about the new adventure I locked myself in the car. If they couldn’t get me out of the car they couldn’t leave me there. It took a lovely, motherly teacher, Mrs Robinson, to coax me out of the car and promise she would look after me. Doing anything out of my comfort zone would destroy me. I grew to love that school, I made some life long friendships there. I developed the ability to enjoy doing new activities because I was living with my friends all the time. My next big upheaval was moving school when I was 13. I was diagnosed with depression when I was 13.

I was 13 when I first properly dressed up in full gothic makeup and came out of my room wearing it. My parents laughed and told me it was just a phase. At 35 I am still a goth.

I was 14 when I came out as bisexual to my mum, she told me it was just a phase. At 35, and married to a man, I am still bisexual.
For me, the strange and quiet kid, these were pivotal moments in my life expressing my identity and my biggest supporter laughed at me and told me it was just a phase. I was 13 when I wrote FREAK into my leg with a razor blade.

I was 14 when I started drinking and taking drugs. I’m not talking alcopops and a spliff, I was drinking a litre of vodka straight per week while I was at boarding school and popping ecstasy like it was sweeties. I was on antidepressants but it was the only way I could feel confident in my own skin. Age 14 I was suspended for being drunk at school, age 15 I was suspended for taking drugs at school.

I was never a ‘bad kid’ I wasn’t disruptive, I was never bullied nor did I ever bully anyone. I had a privileged background with loving parents, I had my close knit group of weirdo friends, I knew what I wanted to do with my life and yet I would self harm everyday and self medicate through drink and drugs. I didn’t know who I was. When I thought I had found my identity I was laughed at. When I tried to be who I am I was told it was just a phase and those three words mixed with severe mental health problems created a microcosm for destructive behaviour.

All throughout these difficult times art was a way I could express myself. My art was dark, it was very personal but it was also something I had autonomy over. I could share what I felt like sharing and I could keep to myself what I didn’t want people to see. I gained an art scholarship for my second year at secondary school. It was something I was really good at and I loved. I was able to escape my pain or I was able to release it. I was able to spend time alone with myself without hurting myself. It was a distraction and a life line.

To this day my mum says that I have always attracted the waifs and strays. That is something I actually feel immensely proud of. I’ve always felt like the mother hen within my group of weirdos, a protector and a cheerleader. It’s these traits that I believe attract people who feel like they are broken and need some help building their confidence and make them feel like they are not alone.

I want my business to help those people, particularly in the LGBTQ+, community who have felt like the outsiders. Who may not have found their tribe yet. Who may live alternative lifestyles but want to feel like they are part of something. Art is my medium but creating a safe space is my calling.