In 2014 my life changed dramatically. What followed was a prolonged period of instability and emotional unravelling. Over the next eight years I moved home seven times, and my sense of safety and identity felt fractured.

During that time I sought support from healthcare professionals and explored many different approaches to healing - therapy, breathwork, meditation, recovery programmes, prayer, journaling and nature. I learned, slowly, how to sit with discomfort instead of running from it.

There was a pivotal moment when I stood naked in front of a full-length mirror and chose to look at myself without judgement. Not the younger version of my body. Not the version I thought I “should” be. Just me, as I was. Instead of criticism, I chose compassion. Instead of hiding, I chose acceptance. That quiet act of self-recognition marked a turning point.

Although the emotional journey began years earlier, the painting itself came to life in 2025. It was originally intended to be another environmental work, a continuation of my penguin series. But when I stood in front of the canvas, something shifted. I felt an overwhelming urge to throw paint, to scribble, to write without structure or permission. The work redirected itself.

A Visual Meditation on Recovery and Rebirth.

What began as instinctive mark-making became language.

As words accumulated across the surface, the narrative slowly expanded beyond my own experience. I began introducing phrases in different languages, recognising that healing is not a solitary or cultural experience, but a shared human one. The canvas shifted from personal release to collective reflection.

I rotated the work daily because there is no single direction in recovery. There is no “right way up.” Healing is non-linear. It loops, it fractures, it rebuilds.

Healing is not about perfection. It is about choosing to stay. It is about learning to look at yourself, cracks and all, and say:

I am still here.