Art Found Me Again. Really.

Finding Art Within Me.

I used to believe I had to “find my way back to art.”
And when I lost it, maybe it just wasn’t meant for me anymore.

But many years later, I realized something...

Art was always there.

Quietly trying to get my attention. Leaving little hints like crumbs along the road, hoping I would eventually find my way back again.

It found me in the aftermath of peak burnout and illness — during a medical leave when every part of my life felt heavy, disconnected, unfamiliar, and even broken. Nothing seemed to fit anymore. Not my routines, not my work, not even myself.

And somehow, art softly returned to me.

It helped me rediscover a deep curiosity and familiarity in simply holding a paintbrush again.

When Art Returned

Slowly, over time, I felt like I could stay above the surface a little longer as I learned what was happening with my body.

Between counselling, medical appointments, consultations, and trying to rebuild my health, I decided to try art as a therapy on my own. That’s when I tried watercolour painting for the first time.

And I was mesmerized.

I had painted before — mostly with acrylics — but watercolour felt completely different.

Gentler. More fluid. Less controlled.

In the darkest season of my life, art knocked at my door and found me again.

At first, it was simply therapy. A quiet place to breathe. A place where I could process emotions without needing words.

But after the medical leave ended and all the legal battles surrounding it were finally behind me, I started imagining a different kind of life that may be possible for me. A life that felt more aligned, more honest, more sustainable.

Stability mattered, and there was no future or security in Art, or so I was told.

So I decided to pursue dentistry. Why? Honestly, I was pressured to go into Science to become a physician or a doctor, and I didn't want either. Dentistry felt like the least-bad option at the time. At least I'd get to work with my hands, right? Just… dental tools and people's mouths instead of paintbrushes and canvas. And I wouldn't have to work alone all day, which mattered to me.

But did that plan work out?

Nope.

My grades weren’t strong enough to get into the science faculty programs I needed. Still, I went to university because it was expected, and honestly, I didn't know what else to do.

Within a year and a half into the university years, I became deeply depressed and miserable. Studying economics, math, and psychology while feeling completely disconnected from what I was learning. At some point, it hit me: I was burning through student loans on something I had no real passion for.

So I made a decision that felt terrifying at the time:

I withdrew from university.

I loved the balance of creativity, technical problem-solving, and helping people to achieve their dream space. What I appreciated most was how versatile the field could be — from AutoCAD drafting to kitchen design, residential projects, commercial spaces, and more. The possibilities and options of career paths were diverse and endless! While studying, I worked in kitchen design and sales, which eventually helped me land a full-time role at an office design firm after graduation.

I was so excited. It felt like a real career. A real beginning.

And then three months later, I got laid off...

I'm embarrassed to admit it now, but I cried as I walked out of the office. The HR manager gave me a big hug and told me they were truly glad to have had me there. Maybe she was just trying to comfort me — but I believed her.

They were good people, and deep down, I knew I wasn't the right fit either. Looking back now, I can also see so many signs of my ADHD showing up in that role long before I understood what ADHD even looked like in adults.

Eight Years That Shaped Me

Fortunately, I found another job shortly afterward at a small family-run residential renovation company.

I loved that job.

I started as a kitchen & bathroom designer/consultant, working with a wide range of clients. Every project felt different, and seeing the transformation of spaces was incredibly exciting. I loved being able to use my creativity while helping people plan and design the new space that's so personal for them.

After a few years, I was promoted to project management, working closely with trades and clients in their homes. I was able to see projects from the beginning to completion, which was so exciting and satisfying for me.

From the first client meeting to demolition to final styling touches, I was there. I loved being able to see every transformation, and I learned so much during those years.

There were stressful deadlines, difficult conversations, mistakes, and constant unexpected challenges. Despite all the challenges, I managed the hard times because the people I worked with were like my family. My colleagues became close friends and a second home to me - I was able to lean on them through my two pregnancies, family challenges, and most importantly, be myself.

To this day, I’m deeply grateful for those eight years.

COVID, Burnout, and Losing Myself

When COVID hit, many things shifted.

At that point, I'd been working at the company for more than 7 years. I felt the need to move on. I wanted to do something where I could serve people in a more meaningful way. It was incredibly hard to leave... but I knew it was the right decision.

I remembered a sustainable materials and design course from my Interior Design studies that had stayed with me. That eventually led me to the Sustainable Business Leadership program at BCIT — a bridge program I'd learned about back then, and it became one of the most inspirational and challenging educational experiences of my life. I met incredible instructors, thoughtful classmates, and people whose values felt deeply aligned with mine.

After graduating, I landed an exciting role in sustainable materials and furniture design. Unfortunately, I left after only a few months due to a mismatch in values and working environment. I was very lucky to find another opportunity in the sustainable food industry shortly after and truly believed: This is it—the place where I could finally shine, grow, and move forward.

I felt excited.

Until I wasn’t...

After about a year, I started feeling completely overwhelmed. I struggled to focus. I became physically sick for multiple days every month. My energy disappeared. Anxiety skyrocketed. I did not feel like myself anymore.

I worked closely with my naturopath and tried everything — exercise, adjusting my diet, acupuncture, chiropractic care, massage therapy, functional supplements, and eventually leaning on medication. I took additional unpaid days off on a monthly basis. But nothing seemed to help or make much of a difference. I continued being challenged by severe fatigue and insomnia, along with other symptoms that became unbearable. It all affected my work, my home life, and my ability to feel present as a mother.

Eventually, I took a leave of absence.

I thought: 'Maybe I just need one month to reset.'

One month turned into two... Then three... Then, more than a year of Long Term Disability (LTD) Leave — and I actually felt worse after stopping work, not better. My body had been carrying far more than I realized. Anxiety attacks, insomnia, chronic exhaustion, low mood, and constant dysregulation. The unpredictable symptoms, the guilt of not being able to work, the uncertainty of when I'd recover — the list goes on and on — it was incredibly scary for both my husband and me.

Several months into LTD, I was officially diagnosed with GAD, inattentive ADHD, and Premenstrual Dysphoric Disorder (PMDD). The ADHD diagnosis in particular felt both devastating and relieving... There was grief, anger, relief, and deep mourning for the younger version of myself who had struggled silently for so long without understanding why - and without being understood. (More on this in a future post.)

The medical leave was the darkest season of my life. Not just because of the physical symptoms, but because of how invisible and misunderstood it all felt. I lost myself in ways I didn't even have words for at the time. I would never want to relive it — and I would never want anyone else to experience that level of burnout and disconnection.

One of the hardest parts was trying to appear "okay" in front of my children, who were too young to understand what was happening. The guilt of not being emotionally or physically present enough felt unbearable at times. Wanting my husband's support while also feeling guilty for adding to his plate. Having to explain and justify my state to everyone around me, yet desperately wanting to just look okay and put together.

If you know someone who's gone through a medical leave, it may be hard to understand — but know that by the time they took it, it was probably already long overdue. What you see on the outside is only the tip of the iceberg.

Growing Up With Art

I grew up with art — especially painting. It always made me feel grounded and safe. Even throughout high school, I chose art classes as electives because creating made me feel the most like myself, even when I didn’t fully know who I was yet.

I knew I wanted art to stay part of my life somehow, but I felt completely clueless in what kind of art path to pursue.

Like many children of immigrant parents, I was told to be realistic about careers.

Photo above: Me (and my little sister) at a painting competition in Korea, before we immigrated to Canada.

Rediscovering Creativity

I took a year off, worked part-time, and visited Korea for the first time in ten years since immigrating. During that trip, I reunited with my best friend and took a few art classes.

Something in me started waking up again. It felt so warm and fuzzy inside me.

After I returned home, I spoke with a friend and shared that I wanted to pursue something creative but had no idea which direction to take. She mentioned an Interior Design program that her friend had started taking at BCIT.

That single conversation changed the course of my life.

When I looked into the industry and the program, something clicked. I became genuinely interested. I also appreciated that BCIT offered part-time courses, which meant I could continue working while slowly paying off my university loans.

I told myself:

“I’ll try three courses and decide from there.”

Three courses eventually turned into four years of part-time studies, and I completed my Diploma in Interior Design while I worked part-time jobs as I was still trying to pay off the student loans from my university years.

Image above: ink sketching of architecture

Image above: white-colour pencil sketching on black paper

Looking back now, art had been there from the very beginning.

It kept appearing throughout my life in different forms — painting, design, creativity, visual storytelling, even the type of yoga mat towel I chose or the beauty I noticed day to day as I walk down the streets. It had been sending me signs all these years, and perhaps it was simply waiting for me to finally recognize it not just as a hobby, but as something deeply connected to who I am and who I am meant to be.

Many things are still uncertain. Navigating my chronic health conditions is ongoing — some days are fine, but many days are still hard. I'm learning to better balance my days with purposeful rest so I can recover and show up more fully. There are floating ideas, unanswered questions, and moments where the path ahead feels blurry. But I can feel something shifting — at least going towards the right path.

As I continue rebuilding my health and learning to live with my ADHD brain instead of constantly fighting against it, I think art was simply waiting for me to accept that this is the path I was always meant to return to.

To be continued.

Blossoming anyways,

Rose.