When I first started my business almost eight years ago, I thought the hardest part would be dealing with people. I wasn’t exactly a natural at it. I felt awkward, shy, and like I didn’t quite belong. I had fallen deeply in love with photography, but turning that love into a career felt like a mountain I wasn’t sure I could climb.

And yet, here I am. “How did I make it this far?” I’m asking myself.

I’ve found my people. The kind who don’t expect me to shrink or shape-shift to be worthy of love, collaboration, or connection. It turns out, connecting with clients wasn’t the obstacle I imagined. It became the very soul of what I do.

Over the years, I’ve tried a dozen marketing strategies and burned out more than once chasing someone else’s definition of success. But in the last year, I’ve found clarity in what I want to say, in the kind of work I want to do, and most importantly, in who I am.

As an autistic, queer human who left behind fundamentalist religion, I’ve come to realize that everything I once saw as a weakness was never the problem. I was just looking at it through the wrong lens. I spent years performing for a world that was never built with someone like me in mind. Trying to measure up to a version of success that didn’t include people like us. And I know, if you’re reading this, chances are you’ve felt that way too.

That’s why I do this work. I don’t pretend to be someone I’m not. I’m not here to fit into a mold I never agreed to. I’m here to create space, for myself and for others, to exist exactly as we are. And to say, unapologetically, “I am enough. And so are you.” This business has changed my life. The people I’ve met through it have changed my life. You’ve shaped not only how I work, but how I live. You — my clients, my community, my friends. My fellow sapphics, neurodivergents, disabled folks, introverts — you are the heart of this business.