What Do I Do, You Ask?
People ask me what I do, and for a long time, I've struggled with the answer.
I usually start with the easy part. I teach women to needle felt Medicine Dolls. That's true, but that statement is a bit misleading on it’s own, and I've watched it land wrong more times than I can count. A woman hears "needle felting," decides she's not a crafts person, and the door closes before she ever finds out what's actually on the other side of it.
Where This Actually Began
Sacred Spirit Weavers didn't start as a business idea. It started with a Medicine Doll I made, years into my own life, that cracked something open in me I had been moving towards all along.
I've dedicated my whole life to my own self study because it was truly difficult to know where and how I fit in. I've had a kind of burning need most people don't carry. A need to really know myself underneath every mask I learned to wear just to navigate being neurodivergent in a world that couldn't hold that kind of difference. I learned exactly what it costs a woman to suppress herself to stay safe, because I lived it before I had any language for it.
The Medicine Doll became the first place I could pour that lifelong self-study into a deeply expressed form. She wasn't a craft. She was a mirror I could actually see myself in.
What Happens Inside the Sanctuary Journey
I think of myself more as a guide than a teacher. I'm not here to hand you answers or fix what's wrong with you. I hold a container, and I guide women through their own self-exploration, using archetypal work as the map and creative expression as the language for what gets found along the way.
The Medicine Doll is where this began, and she's still the heart image of everything I do. But inside the Sanctuary Journey, what a woman actually makes is never the point. I've watched a student arrive here after living through something that could have broken her completely, someone who'd lost touch with a creative gift that once meant everything to her. Slowly, inside this space, she found her way back to it, through music, with layers of grief moving through her and out into sound. What she brought forward moved every one of us. It was the sound of a woman standing back up.
I've watched another student recognize herself so completely in one of our archetypes that she's stepping into a significant new chapter of her own life with a clarity she didn't have before she found us. It brought her back to a sense of joy she hadn't been able to access for a long time.
That’s how the Medicine Doll inspires the creativity and transformation. She does not always express in the form of a doll. She transforms the energy. Some women do not feel the calling to learn needle felting for that to happen. Some do. What you find is a room honest enough, and safe enough, to actually meet yourself in and feel welcome.
““This journey has been a lifeline while going through a severely difficult, massive life transition.” ”
Who This Is For
This is for the woman who has spent her whole life tending everyone except herself, and is starting to suspect there's a cost that she can no longer ignore.
It's for the woman who has quietly wondered where she fits, the way I did, and hasn't yet found a room where that question is welcome instead of threatening.
It's for the woman who wants to go into the parts of herself she usually hides, not because it's easy, but because she's tired of the alternative, tired of performing a version of herself that was never true. The version of herself that is no longer sustainable.
And it's for the woman who understands that she must truly face herself, because the alternative is too costly.
I have seen many women, too terrified to face themselves, pay that cost for the rest of their lives. It’s heartbreaking. That's why I'm willing to descend into my own depths and sit with what's uncomfortable there. I may still need to wear a mask outwardly sometimes, to move through the world, or to adapt to what a given room requires. But I refuse to wear one for myself, in the only room that actually matters. This work is for the woman ready to make that same refusal.
Why We Don’t End the Way Most Courses End
I've built this without a clean finish line, and for a long time I didn't know how to explain that either. But I trusted that instinct and it’s proving itself to be right for this container. The Medicine Wheel of Life keeps turning. Some things resolve in a season. Other things take longer, sometimes much longer, and that's not failure. It's just how change actually moves. When we face a challenge that seems slow to resolve, it’s usually because there is more to learn. The real challenge is to stay present with yourself.
What holds all of us together inside the Sanctuary isn't just the curriculum. It's the container. It’s an intimate, bonded space with women who've become a genuine village to each other. Women who continue to gather live on Saturdays not because they have to, but because they've found something rare there, a place where they can actually be themselves.
That's what I do. The Medicine Doll opened the door. What's actually inside is a woman, finally coming home to who she was always meant to be. In this space, she is seen, heard and witnessed, and that changes her story.
