When I once said to my daughter, "Aren’t you surprised that I’m thinking of being an artist?" — she simply replied, "But you’ve always been creative."

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I’d never really seen myself that way. I remembered being at school and drawing a group of people. My tutor politely pointed out all the flaws and suggested I stick with mathematics. Academic achievement was what mattered then — and I did love learning — but art never featured in my long-term plan.

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Life didn’t quite go as I had hoped. I started a family young and floated between jobs when I could. My mental health suffered, and I rarely felt like I was good at anything. I studied for a degree in Psychology, not to pursue a career, but in the hope it would help me better understand mental health. Sadly, it only reinforced how little support seemed to be available.

As time passed, my physical health declined. Eventually, I was diagnosed with Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome, along with a list of co-morbid conditions. I sank into a state of quiet acceptance, unable to see a way forward. My confidence and self-worth were at an all-time low.

Then in 2013, something shifted. I realised I needed to start accepting myself for who I truly was. A month later, I ended a toxic relationship and made peace with the idea of being better off alone. But life had other plans. I met someone completely different, and we just clicked.

With the support of my partner and the birth of our son, I found a spark again and decided to study Health Sciences — hoping to better understand my own condition. I completed the degree, but my self-belief was still fragile.

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I started writing little stories and doodling illustrations to go with them. It felt good to create again.

Everything changed when I came across an advert for Bonny Snowdon, a coloured pencil artist. Her joy and passion were infectious. I picked up my pencils — and something clicked. I could sit and draw for hours, completely absorbed. For the first time in a long time, I started to believe in myself.

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My dad encouraged me to try selling my work. Heartbreakingly, he passed away not long after, but his belief in me stayed. That’s how Sadaja Art was born. The name blends mine, my father’s, and my son’s names — three generations of inspiration.

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Sadaja Art isn’t just a space to share and sell my work — it’s a space for support. I want to lift up other artists, especially those struggling with self-doubt. Through my website, I’ll be featuring spotlight artists — creatives who may not have their own platforms yet, but whose stories deserve to be seen and heard.

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If you're looking to bring a piece of this journey into your own space, browse my shop. Each piece is a reflection of my own healing, and your support helps create space for others to explore their own creative journeys.

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I’m also launching a podcast called An Art Enough Life. It’s a space to speak openly about the ups and downs of my journey: building a business, living with a medical condition, balancing creativity with family life, and figuring things out one step at a time. Spotlight artists will also be invited to share their own stories and journeys.

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But this is more than just my journey — it’s about building a community. If you’re someone who’s found strength in creativity or wants to explore it more deeply, join my community. Through shared experiences, we can support each other in our mental health journeys and find healing through art. Whether you’re an artist or someone just starting, this space is here for you.

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Through everything, one constant has remained — my love for animals. Dogs, cats, birds, fish, and, years ago, a very mischievous rabbit — they’ve all been part of my life. I couldn’t imagine living without them. That love is at the heart of every drawing I create.

This is just a glimpse into my story — into who I am.

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And I’m proud to say: I am an artist.

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