Part 2: Healing Through Creation

When the world shut down in 2020, everything already felt small to me. I had lost so much before the pandemic, but grief has a way of finding new corners to hide in. Being home, watching the news. Seeing numbers rise. It made old wounds ache in new ways.

And then I lost Natalia.
Even though I knew it was coming, nothing prepares you for that kind of silence. She had been my person, my mirror, my proof that even in pain, you could still find joy. When she was gone, the air in my house changed.

Not long after, I lost my grandmother, Mom Mae. She was the kind of woman who kept things together with her hands. She cooked, sewed, cleaned, and prayed. Whatever needed doing she did it. Losing her so soon after Natalia made it feel like all the women who had held me up were gone at once.

I needed something to do with my hands. Something that felt alive.

So I started making things, painting, piercing, anything that kept my mind moving. I didn’t know it then, but I was teaching myself how to heal by creating. I wasn’t chasing money or success. I was chasing peace.

My brothers were experimenting with sea moss supplements, and they swore it changed everything for them. They had more energy, clearer eyes, and better digestion. I tried it and I could feel the difference too. It was small but real, like my body was waking up again after years of running on fumes.

I started to wonder what it could do for skin. If it was helping on the inside, maybe it could help on the outside too.

That thought turned into a quiet kind of curiosity. The kind that keeps you up late scrolling recipes and watching videos. The kind that whispers, maybe this could be something.

That’s when I made my first batch of soap. It was a floral-scented bar with a little flower embedded in it. I still have one. It’s not perfect. It’s a little uneven. A little soft. But it means everything to me. It’s proof that even broken people can make beautiful things.

Every maker remembers their first bar.
Mine taught me that healing can be held in your hands.