Hey! I’m Christina — but most people call me Flower now.

That name showed up during a time when life felt a little wild and a little broken open.

It stuck because it reminded me of something I needed to remember: softness isn’t weakness, resilience grows in dark places, and beauty doesn’t need permission to exist.

​

I was a very sensitive kid. I felt everything. Moods in a room, other people’s emotions, things that were never said out loud. I didn’t have language for it then, rather a deep knowing. Over time, I learned to quiet that part of myself so I could get through the world without being overwhelmed.

​

Years later, a work injury ended my job as an autism support worker and forced me to slow down in ways I never had before. My body had opinions. My nervous system was loud. And everything I had been holding together started to come apart. What followed wasn’t some graceful awakening. It was messy. It was panic, dissociation, deep exhaustion, and learning, slowly, how to listen to a body that had been carrying far more than I realized.

​

Breath became something I leaned on. Movement became gentler.

Stillness became necessary.

​

Healing came in layers. Through showing up. Through rest. Through letting my sensitivity come back 'online' instead of pushing it away. Instead of disassociation or escaping. Somewhere along the way, I stopped trying to be who I thought I should be and started responding to what was actually true.

​

The name Flower stayed because it fits how I live now; rooted, responsive, and deeply aware of cycles. Some seasons bloom. Some seasons are for going underground. Both matter.