It’s not about the life you live, but the inspiration you leave behind

A journey always has a story, and my story starts from when I was just a little kid. I had always grown up watching my grandma sew. I remember specifically watching her adorn a brick with plastic canvas and colorful yarn because she needed a door stopper and didn’t like the plain ones at the store, she was amazing in that way, she always had a creative vision for everything. My first real craft project that I thought of as “a big kids project” was the exact same brick door stopper for my bedroom door. (Of course my bedroom door didn’t really require a door stopper but that’s beside the point.) That moment was the turning point for me, I fell in love with the creation process. I spent every summer from that day forward with my grandma and she always had a new skill to show me. I very quickly became bored of my childish coloring books and crayons so my grandma gave me my first adult coloring book and a set of colored pencils. I was taught how to control the pencil to create different shades and shadows, how to blend colors and construct different patterns. That book kept me busy for hours every day. By the time I was in the fifth grade, my mother had enrolled me in a sewing class where the curriculum for such juvenile students consisted of very basic pillow making and nothing else which seemed very simple and mind numbing to me because I had already surpassed that level of skill. After one year of pillow making, I finally heard about a rug hooking class I could take instead which was a craft that I had never hear of at that point. I was enrolled in the new class and began to absorb all of the new information like a sponge; before long I had completed my first rug and had no idea what to do with it so I combined my two skills and turned it into a pillow. This pillow was different from the rest because it was rug textured on one side so I felt more fulfillment and accomplishment with this project. Ironically, to this day, I still see that same rug hooking kit at the craft store every time I walk by. By the time I was in middle school I had dabbled in the drawing world and even took a drawing class where I had an amazing teacher. This woman was so inspirational and one of my biggest influencers to date. One of my must notable moments in my crafting life was when my 7th grade drawing teacher was so amazed with my work that she asked to keep it to display at the school (of course I implemented some of my grandmas colored pencil techniques) to which I happily agreed and pridefully saw that art in that office for the following years. Having had such a great experience with my drawing teacher in middle school, I elected to take a more advanced art class as part of my schooling my first year of high school. My initial encounter with this teacher was pleasant, she was friendly and inviting, she actually had her own children that were enrolled in her class as well. It seemed as though things would go swimmingly until she realized what my last name was. My older brother had taken her class in the past and for some reason she did not like him as a student and from then on, I felt like I had been treated differently. I felt as though I was still creating amazing work and every once in a while I would put a little spin on the assigned project to keep it interesting for me. I had always been a straight A student and for some weird reason the only class that I had a C in was my art class so I looked at my individual project grades and realized that my projects had been graded more harshly than everyone else’s. Unfortunately this ended up causing me to enroll in a different class because I didn’t want my GPA to start slipping for something so insignificant. Hindsight tells me that this was actually just a blessing in disguise because I began making my own art with my on rules and guidelines instead of someone else’s and this is when my skills finally shined to their greatest potential yet. With the newfound hole in my academic schedule, I ended up enrolling in a JROTC program where I fell in love with the paramilitary life style and went on to become a paramedic in my adult life. When I began schooling for that role, my grandma who had been my rock and my inspiration through all of my years, became sick. I taught myself how to make teddy bears and made one that was customized just for her. She took that teddy bear with her to every doctors appointment and hospital visit she made on her journey through her illness. Unfortunately later that year, she passed away. I had the honor of being able to say my goodbyes and hold her hand as she faded into her next life, her teddy bear at her bedside. I took that bear home and have had it ever since. A little pierce of my grandma is still around to inspire my creativity. In my life currently, I still make teddy bears for special occasions, the most redundant part of the process is cutting the fur fabric but my Fiskars scissors make the process much smoother and significantly less time consuming. I also design and construct graphic stickers and have recently discovered the magic of digital creation as opposed to paper. I also design and create graphic shirts (mostly just for my friends and family.) the attached image is the actual bear from the story. The reason I create every day.