The Gift of "Me Too"

Sometimes the simplest words become the greatest gift.

One Honest Sentence

This week, another artist made my heart sing.

Not because she had finished a masterpiece.

Not because she'd won an award.

Not because she had everything figured out.

She simply said, "I can only spend about twenty minutes in my studio before I'm done."

It happened during a Zoom meeting for a wonderful group I belong to called Resilience and Self-Care as an Artist. We're a group of women, each navigating our own challenges while exploring how to care for ourselves, protect our creativity, and build resilience through life's unexpected twists and turns.

As I looked at all those familiar faces on my computer screen, listening to each woman share her story, I was reminded that every artist carries something the rest of us can't see.

When one woman quietly shared that she could only spend twenty minutes in her studio before needing to stop, I wanted to reach through my computer screen and hug her.

Not because I was happy she was struggling.

Because, for the first time in weeks...

I didn't feel alone.

Sometimes the greatest gift another person can give us isn't advice.

It's honesty.

Some of the most meaningful moments at my retreats happen after the sewing machines are turned off. Around the table, friendships are formed, stories are shared, and we discover that none of us creates—or heals—alone.

Two Glorious Hours

This past week, I finally completed a commission that had been patiently waiting while life took an unexpected detour. My client had been incredibly kind and understanding throughout this journey. When I sent her photos of the finished piece, I honestly thought she was going to cry.

Seeing her excitement filled my heart in ways I can't describe.

For two glorious hours, I forgot.

I wasn't thinking about IV antibiotics.

I wasn't thinking about blood work.

I wasn't thinking about recovery.

I wasn't watching the clock.

I was simply creating.

I was an artist again.

Healing Has Other Plans

Of course, my body quickly reminded me that healing isn't finished.

By that evening, I could barely move.

The next day was spent almost entirely on the couch, letting my body recover from those precious two hours in the studio.

The frustration is real.

There are days I wake up feeling like my old self, only to be reminded that healing still has its own timetable. I have one more week of IV antibiotics, followed by six weeks of oral antibiotics. They continue to wreak havoc on my body, and my energy often feels like my most precious—and limited—resource.

Dreams Don't Wait

Yet even with all of that, life keeps moving forward.

Artwork is being submitted to exhibitions.

I'm preparing for my Desert Fiber Art Immersion Retreat.

Weekly blogs continue to be written.

Dreams haven't stopped simply because my body has asked me to slow down.

Maybe they simply look a little different for now.

The Power of "Me Too"

That woman on Zoom probably had no idea how much her simple sentence meant to me.

She reminded me that I'm not failing.

I'm healing.

She reminded me that creativity doesn't disappear just because our circumstances change.

Sometimes it simply works in shorter sessions.

I've learned that while art may begin in the studio, it truly comes alive in the community we build around it.

Some of my favorite memories haven't happened while sitting at my sewing machine. They've happened around a table, sharing stories, laughter, encouragement, and the simple reminder that we understand one another.

That's where resilience grows.

Not because any one of us has all the answers.

But because together, we remind each other that we're not walking this path alone.

We All Need a "Me Too"

Whether you're recovering from surgery, caring for a loved one, grieving a loss, navigating burnout, or simply wondering why life feels harder than it used to...

I hope you'll remember this.

There is someone else quietly whispering,

"Me too."

Sometimes those two little words are all we need to keep going.

We live in a world that often tells us to be strong, to have the answers, and to keep pushing forward. But I've learned that real strength often looks different. It looks like sharing our stories.

It looks like listening without judgment. It looks like reminding one another that none of us has to carry life's challenges alone.

If my journey has taught me anything, it's this:

Community doesn't happen because we all have perfect lives.

It happens because we're willing to show up with honest hearts.

So today, if you're struggling with something no one else can see, know this...

You are not alone.

I'm cheering for you.

And I hope we can continue to build a community where "Me too" becomes the beginning of hope, healing, friendship, and connection.

Because sometimes...

Those two little words are enough to make our hearts sing.

If someone has ever quietly whispered "Me too" when you needed it most, I'd love to hear your story in the comments. ❤️❤️❤️

Much Love,

Deb