Holding Onto the Light: My Journey Through Darkness and Back

There were times when it felt like the light had completely left me. After heartbreak, trauma bonding, and deep personal losses, I didn’t just feel sad—I felt unsafe in joy, disconnected from myself, and unsure I would ever feel fully alive again. Even the small things that once brought me comfort—self-expression, creativity, and feeling good in my own skin—felt impossible. I had lost my spark, and I didn’t know how to find it.

Shopping for clothes was always stressful for me. I never felt at home in fashion; everything seemed uncomfortable or just not “me.” That discomfort deepened when my energy and confidence were shaken by loss and heartbreak. Expressing myself felt risky, and joy felt like something I wasn’t allowed to claim.

It was in this space of emptiness that I discovered creating hats. Making them became more than a craft—it became a lifeline. Each hat was an act of reclaiming my energy, a tangible way to hold onto hope, and a reminder that light exists even in the darkest times. Every stitch, color, and detail carried intention, reflecting pieces of my identity and my journey.

Through creating, I began to reconnect with myself. The repetitive motions of shaping, stitching, and designing grounded me when my mind was chaotic. It was meditation, therapy, and self-expression all in one. Slowly, I started to feel joy again—not the surface-level excitement I had feared, but the quiet, steady light that comes from being in alignment with your own spirit.

But the hats did more than heal me individually—they opened the door to community. Through sharing my creations, I met so many incredible women on similar journeys. Women who had faced heartbreak, loss, and struggles with self-expression. Women who were also learning to reclaim their light. Together, we created a space of encouragement, inspiration, and empowerment. These connections reminded me that I was not alone and that shared experiences can be powerful medicine.

Hats became my bridge back to myself and to others. They allowed me to express my heritage, my spiritual path, and my inner world in a way words alone could not. Through them, I could take up space, honor my truth, and model what it means to hold onto light even in darkness.

This process also reminded me that shining your own light isn’t selfish—it’s essential. When we honor our own journey and express our authentic selves, it inspires those around us to do the same. Every hat I create carries this philosophy: it is a wearable piece of encouragement, a symbol of hope, and a reminder that our light matters.

I’m not fully “there” yet. I still navigate shadows and moments of doubt. But I hold onto the light—the small flickers that guide me forward. And through this journey, I’ve realized that connection amplifies that light. The community of women I’ve met, sharing, supporting, and shining together, has shown me that we don’t have to do this alone. Hope grows stronger when it’s shared.

If you’ve ever felt dimmed by loss, heartbreak, or the weight of life’s expectations, know that your light is still there. It may feel small or flickering, but it exists. And it can guide you back to yourself. Whether it’s through creating, self-expression, or finding your community, your spark matters—and you deserve to reclaim it.

Inara means to illuminate. That’s the essence of what I do every day—not just in creating hats, but in living a life that holds space for hope, self-expression, and connection. Even when the world feels dark, light is always there. It’s a choice, a practice, and a lifeline. And when we hold onto it together, we shine brighter than we ever could alone.