Our books are about mental health. We say that plainly because we believe the more we say it plainly, the less frightening it becomes.

Raissa's Story

 Following a suicide attempt that left me virtually bedridden, I happened to stumble across a YouTube channel on concept art. Thrilled that such a thing even existed, I became obsessed. I watched every art-related video I could find on YouTube, blew through self-directed online classes, bought mountains of books, all the while sketching profusely, growing my skills. Coincidentally, I had a friend who started up a weekly paint night at the same time, where I discovered a newfound love: watercolor. Even after she moved away, I continued practicing, posting my work to Instagram to keep myself accountable with my newfound habit.

What happened next could only be described as an act of God.

Through a series of peculiar events, too long to list here, I landed a literary agent who introduced me to the world of children's books. After about a year, the Universe would come through for me again, and I ended up landing several book deals within a very short period of time. In 2020, of all years, I decided to take the leap and leave my secure full-time job to go full steam ahead at illustration. I have the utmost gratitude that I haven't had to look back.

My inner child, the me who seemed to know me better than I do now, had it right from the get go. Lawd knows I could've saved myself some trouble had I listened.

There's something that happens when I'm deep into illustrating, when I'm "in the zone," that nourishes my soul and makes time, to-do lists, wants and worries, fears and anxieties, heck, even life, slip away. Art was and continues to be a literal life-saver for me.

Why Lightfull Hearts

I have lived with mental health challenges for most of my adult life. For years I was diagnosed with bipolar 2. It wasn't until my most recent hospitalization that the picture became clearer: schizoaffective disorder, which combines mood episodes with psychosis. Getting the right name for it, after years of hospitalizations and medication adjustments, changed things.

I know what it is to feel too much and to try to feel nothing. I know what it is to find your way back through something unexpected. For me, that something was art.

I'm 36 now. I'm stable. I make books.

Our books are not therapy. They're not worksheets. They don't have tidy endings or lessons neatly handed to you. They're stories, told with honesty and care, for children who feel things deeply and deserve to see that reflected back at them.

My inner child deserved books like these. Yours does too.