“Come as you are”

The story behind the painting Come As You Are and the moment I began to see my survival mechanisms more clearly.

Where the Vision Began

Before Come As You Are became a painting, it was a vision—one that arrived during a quiet but chaotic moment in my life. At the time, I was somewhere between unraveling and awakening, still shedding the versions of myself I had outgrown but not yet sure who I was becoming. What began as a spontaneous image in my mind soon revealed itself to be something deeper: a mirror, a message, and a milestone in my healing. This is the story of that painting, the season that shaped it, and the clarity it offered me when I needed it most.

Life After the Fall

This vision came to me three years after a suicide attempt. And a month prior to meeting someone, that although our relationship would quickly fall apart, they planted a seed. Introducing me to a practice that would become one of my most treasured tools on this journey — meditation.

During this time, I was only months out of a four year, deeply toxic relationship. I was scraping by financially, working odd jobs to stay afloat, renting a room in my childhood friend’s condo. I was very much in survival mode. 

Instead of being led with focus and determination to change my circumstances, consumption and escapism ruled my life. Consumption felt good. Escapism was familiar. It was comfortable. Yoga, meditation, or mindfulness practices were a foreign language, especially coming from someone that grew up in the church (candid stories about those chapters to be shared on another blog post). My go-to survival methods leading up to this point was to stay in motion—to avoid, distract, and numb.

When this image came to me it was the beginning of me doing something different. Quieting all the chatter and being open to listening to that inner voice that I for years had quieted with distractions. 

The Urgency of a Vision

When I was a small child I would get in trouble at school for daydreaming. I remember those moments vividly. Being so entranced, the teacher, saying my name —only God knows how many times, and finally snapping her fingers in front of my face would remedy bringing my attention back to this physical reality. 

Creating Come As You Are was the first time since childhood that I had a vision so clearly like

those daydreams I had as a small child. I was so mesmerized by the image. Especially since the imagery was so far outside of what I was told to be ”normal” or Godly. Internally I felt a push to get it onto a surface as quickly as possible. After seeing the vision a second time, that push felt more urgent, like if I didn’t externalize it immediately, I would lose the image forever. Like a sneeze, it had to come out. 

That urgency wasn’t just creative. It seemed to be a message breaking through the noise. A flash of unfamiliar yet clarity in a life that still felt heavy with distraction.

Come As You Are: The Painting

COME AS YOU ARE, 2018

Come As You Are was born in that liminal space. Between who I had been and who I was becoming. It’s a visual embodiment of self-acceptance. A recognition that the pathway to the most sacred parts of myself have been away from all the noise, the distraction, what’s exciting, and validating. That pathway has been through connecting to myself and God which comes with a greater ease in the solace of nature. It is a kind of quiet rebellion against the polished, performative versions of healing we’re so often sold.

The figure sits in a meditative posture, her body intertwined, echoing the ache of vulnerability. Her arms, mangled from wrestling with inner turmoil, yet still open in quiet reverence to the grandness of the Sun’s restorative energy. A grounded surrender. The calm that follows any storm.

I painted the image onto a piece of recycled wood. At the time, it just made sense, because I had to use materials that were within my means of affordability. But now it feels symbolic; repurposed, reclaimed, and renewed.

A Therapist’s Words 

Recently, my therapist said something in reference to something not related to this time, but relatable to the message:

“Just because your mentally ill mind existed doesn’t mean your wise mind didn’t.”

Even when I was unwell, doing the same old things expecting a different outcome, even in the depths of disconnection, a part of me still knew that painting Come As You Are was my wise mind speaking.

It knew what future-me, a more healed version of myself would need before I could articulate it. I’m learning that healing happens in layers. The process has been an unveiling. Early on in one of my first therapy sessions, my therapist described the process by saying, “…This going to be like pulling back the layers of an onion...”

The closer I get to the core of who I am, I’m learning that in some way it is a return to childlike parts of myself. A reintroduction to an intuitive existence that feels less like learning and more like remembering. That version of me that is curious, imaginative, and expressive without hesitation. All organically like primitive superpowers.

She explores. She creates. She trusts her inner knowing.

Her internal guide is her conscience and compass is her intuition. She is not looking to be led. And in so many ways, she’s the one leading this healing. 

Letting the Process Unfold

Looking back now, I realize this piece is less about a destination and more about permission. Permission to meet yourself exactly where you are. To let go of performing. To sit with the discomfort and allow the process to unfold without rushing, without judgment.

It’s about unlearning. About giving up the familiar in favor of something unfamiliar and honest. About avoiding what looks good but feels hollow, learning to recognize what actually nourishes your wounds, and not just numbs the pain.

When Familiarity Isn’t Safety

This painting emerged during a season of reckoning. Looking back on it now I realize that it was a painful but necessary chapter. Whether I’ve recognized it at the time or not, hardships have created opportunities to reflect on decisions that brought me to that point. One was not giving myself time to regroup and reflect after relationships. And there I was again. 

I’d just moved back to Atlanta and started dating only months after ending a four year, very toxic relationship. Immersing myself into the Atlanta dating culture (I’ll save my experiences and perspective on that for another blog post) it didn’t take long before I realized I was right back in a familiar cycle.

The term ‘situationship’ comes up a lot in the Atlanta dating scene. And while many of us enter the dating world with good intentions, the reality is that a lot of people, myself included, have been navigating it from a place of unresolved hurt. When you’re operating from that kind of brokenness, it’s easy to confuse temporary attention for genuine care, or mistake fleeting chemistry for meaningful connection. Situationships can feel comforting at first, but they often keep us stuck in cycles that deepen our wounds instead of helping us heal. And that is the exact type of relationship I wound up in.  

That realization hit hard—but it was also a turning point. Although this was my first time being in a situationship, I had to come to grips with the fact that, once again, I was seeking a safe space in another person without ever having been that for myself. This time, it just looked like ‘kind of’ being in a relationship. I began to see how often I had confused being pursued and desired with being valued and how often I mistook pleasure and excitement for alignment. I believe life is a type of continuum, and if I truly stand in that belief, I don’t want to be stuck in any sort of cycle in this lifetime. If I wanted to see real change in my dating experience, it was up to me to break free from old patterns and resist conforming to new trends that didn’t align with the wise part of me.

The Inner Mirror of February

Because February is a month wrapped in conversations about love, I wanted to reflect honestly on what love looked like for me during the season of creating Come As You Are. It was not the glossy, romanticized version, but the kind that forces you to look at yourself.

The truth is: every relationship I’ve had was a reflection of the current relationship I had with myself. I’ve learned that until I developed a healthy relationship with myself I would continue to be stuck in the same cycle. A major part of that cycle was seeking various forms of validation outside of me, especially in relationships. In the end, that approach always led me right back to my own voids.

A Reflection for Those in the In-Between

If you’re single, or find yourself in yet another unhealthy relationship dynamic or simply questioning the kind of love you’re accepting I invite you to pause this February.

Ask yourself:

• Am I avoiding what’s good for me because it feels unfamiliar?

  
  

• Am I mistaking pleasure and excitement for alignment?

  
  

This Is What Come As You Are Means

To me, this painting is about surrender.

It’s about honesty.

It’s about sitting in the middle of the mess and asking,

“What now?”

A vision is the story behind Come As You Are. But a vision is more than just a vivid mental image, especially if you dare to believe it might be a soul-level message. A vision has the power to anchor us to the truth that healing isn’t about becoming someone new, it’s about uncovering the truest version of who we’ve always been. It reminds us that even in our most disconnected or chaotic states, there is still something within us that knows. That remembers. That is already whole.

A true vision is decisive, comes without motive or confusion. It arrives only to offer clarity, purpose, or direction, often before we’re able to put any of it into words.

In Closing

Come As You Are isn’t just a painting, it’s a declaration. A reminder that healing doesn’t require perfection, and self-love doesn’t wait for us to “arrive.” It invites us to meet ourselves exactly where we are, without shame or disguise. Through the mess, the ache, the longing, and the slow return to self, there’s wisdom that never stopped speaking. It is only waiting for silence to be heard. And in that stillness, remember: even when you’re most unwell, you are still wise.