Until 8 years ago, I HATED pink. But as I continue on my recovery journey, I often visualize myself with a vibrant fuchsia cloud surrounding me as I move through the world.
It is hard to ignore the behind-the-scenes complexities and political undercurrents encountered in co-production, even when the work rooted in healing, push against those covert agendas.
Taken from the plane on my first trip to Europe, those clouds symbolize my efforts and knowledge gained through my experiences. I carry the best of those experiences into new projects and possibilities for genuine co-production.
Although the nest itself is delicate, it’s strong enough to shelter the even more fragile eggs within from the open sky. Similarly, the CLC has been a protective and nurturing environment that has supported my personal and professional growth, even during vulnerable times. I have felt cared for and safe in my recovery journey.
Like a nest, co-production in Recovery Colleges is delicate—requiring time, care, and ongoing attention to take shape. This collaborative process is built thoughtfully, piece by piece, into a supportive structure strong enough to hold space for vulnerability, growth, and recovery. At the CLC, I’ve experienced both roles: being an “egg,” benefiting from the shelter while vulnerable, and a “parent bird,” helping to build the nest.
This photo can be read in two ways: as a movement out of darkness and into light, or as a moment of safety within transition—like the shelter a tunnel offers from the elements. For me, the CLC has been both: a light that encouraged me forward and a safe, supportive space in which change and transformation are possible.
My experience at the CLC has awakened a sense of adventure and the courage to try—seeking knowledge and contributing in ways that once felt out of reach. I’ve accomplished things I never expected, like working on and presenting mental health research and helping to shape meaningful projects.
This experience has expanded my sense of what’s possible beyond the limitations of my disability and helped me see myself in new ways, with new paths and possibilities now within reach.
On this beautiful autumn day, the tall trees offer a bit of shelter, though I’m fully outside. This image reflects how my CLC experience has shifted—from working through challenges within protective shelter to stepping into a space where, while some protection remains, there’s joyful exploration through creativity, learning, and connection. It’s been an enriching part of my recovery.
At the CLC, I’ve learned so much—not just about mental health, but through courses on creative writing and general interest topics. I’ve found joy in learning and formed meaningful connections. It’s not only a space for working through hard things, but also a place to grow, discover, and feel inspired.
There’s also been a strong sense of community—through the courses and in co-production and teamwork on the research subcommittee. Being part of this environment has helped me feel more capable, more optimistic, and more grounded in my journey of recovery and self-discovery.
The yellow metal roof of the shelter reminds me of a mother hen’s wing—offering protection, warmth, and comfort. It reflects my experience of being supported at the CLC, especially during difficult and vulnerable times. In that sheltering space, I’ve felt held—able to be where I am, in terms of both ability and recovery.
Because of my disability, I’ve often encountered barriers in professional spaces. At the CLC, I’ve felt genuinely supported to show up as I am. The culture of flexibility, understanding, and non-judgment has allowed me to stay engaged, contribute meaningfully, and feel respected. It’s rare to find a space that not only accommodates individual needs, but also values each person’s unique ways of contributing.
Taken from the edge of the shelter, this photo represents a transition—from rest to exploration.
Living with a physical disability, I often need spaces of rest, like benches or shelters, that allow me to safely stretch my comfort zone. My CLC experience has been like that: a place of emotional safety that has supported both recovery and growth. Some days, I’ve needed full protection. Other days, I’ve felt ready to venture out—expanding my window of tolerance, facing life’s challenges, exploring the tougher parts of recovery, and pushing myself professionally, like stepping into a wintry landscape that still holds meaning and possibility.
I’ve found it deeply empowering to be both a student at the CLC and a co-producer in the research subcommittee. Through this work, I’ve experienced personal and professional accomplishments that wouldn’t have been possible without the support and values of co-production.