Wow, what a colorful year! 2024 started off so terribly depressing that I didn’t know what to do with myself. Or, well, ever since the pandemic began, I hadn’t been able to get back on track. It felt like the whole world had derailed after the pandemic and was moving further and further away into some unknown fog. This year felt like a total ping-pong table in my head—was it the world’s fault, or was it my fault that I felt so awful? Honestly, it’s probably been this way my whole life, but my ADHD memory only recalls the most recent events.

Anyway, I felt like I had to try a lot of new things: figure out where I wanted to go with my creativity and what kinds of people I wanted around me. One big goal was to finally take painting seriously. Sure, I’ve been illustrating and painting my whole life, but now I had something to say: my story about getting diagnosed, my traumas, and my inner child. To find people like you, you need to share yourself and your story. Yes, it’s terrifying—at the beginning of the year and even now. So, my first exhibition was called “Comfort Zone” and took place in a friend’s Airbnb apartment at Telliskivi 26.

 

I felt like I had spent my whole life being forced out of my comfort zone—something many neurodivergent people can relate to—so I wanted to do something big and scary… in a way that felt comfortable for me. And also comfortable for visitors, because my target audience is other neurodivergent people. And it was so cool—having the exhibition in a cozy, spacious apartment felt like hosting it in my own home. Plus, it inspired people to see colorful art on walls, which is still a bit taboo for many Estonians.

Then I got on a roll. I thought, okay, let’s try to get my art into different places—maybe even a gallery? I hadn’t even said the idea out loud when I got an invitation from Victoria Olt Gallery to hold my first solo exhibition. And then this incredible creative energy came over me, resulting in the “Black Sheep” series. It reflected my inner child, who, because of an undiagnosed life, often felt like they never fit in.

 

I shared my childhood very openly—its challenges, joys, and discoveries—and I was so happy with the overwhelmingly positive feedback. Kids brought their parents to the exhibition, and I met so many amazing people! It generated a lot of buzz in the media: radio, podcasts, TV, magazines… I’m an admittedly attention-loving person, and it feels amazing to get attention for something that truly matters to me: our colorful neurodivergent community in Estonia. Long live the spotlight we’re getting!

Which brings me to the Neurospicy Hub events. These actually started back in fall 2023, so it’s been over a year now, but I can now confidently admit how I had a full meltdown before the first Neurospicy events. I kept thinking, “What kind of fool invites a bunch of strangers to their home?” Even though I’m a great communicator, I have a massive fear of new things. Just do it scared is my motto—I cry, I do it, and in the end, I’m happy because, wow, look at the cool thing that came out of it!

For those who don’t know, Neurospicy Hub is an event I host at my place for neurodivergent people to come together, create art (or whatever creative project they’re working on), and discuss neurodivergent topics openly. Everyone’s nervous at first, but everyone has been happy they joined!

 

Then some people suggested creating a Discord server for neurodivergents, which took me about two months to work up the courage for. It seemed like the scariest thing in the world because, 1) I had never used Discord before, and 2) what if unpleasant people joined, and I couldn’t manage it? But as always, my curiosity got the better of me. The Discord was created, and now, several months later, it has grown into the coolest community of people! Once again: I cried, I did it, and it turned into something amazing! There are tons of topics, daily conversations, and people constantly inspiring each other. Win!

I also did some counseling for a while. I felt like I had so much knowledge to share, and some people were really interested. My therapist also gave me the green light. I’ve been tattooing for 12 years, gaining counseling experience and tons of empathy along the way. Plus, I’ve studied psychology, read books, articles, and research—basically, I’m like an endless encyclopedia. So, I did some counseling, and clients were happy, but I eventually felt it was pulling me away from my true purpose.

I’ve always liked to follow my curiosity and try things out, because then I know whether I’m heading in the right direction or not—or maybe the experience pushes me in an entirely new direction. Counseling led me to realize that while mental health topics are very important to me, my main goal is still art. I can talk about all sorts of topics at length, but in the end, my goal is always the same: to create art.

All the various art projects, interviews, events, and clients have now given me a clear direction for where I want to go in 2025:

To give hope.

 

I wish to offer hope in the complexity of getting diagnosed, in daily struggles, in the endless wars of the world, in inflation, in grief. I’m not a teacher, but I’m someone who brings people together to share ideas, hardships, and moments of recognition. I see colors, skills, and potential in people that they haven’t noticed in themselves, and it brings me so much joy to help bring those out through my art and ideas.

I’ve started painting a new series called “Alter Ego,” where I reflect on a character I created as a teenager: a shape-shifting dog that protects me and creates a fantasy world where I feel safe. I’ve drawn this dog many times over the years without knowing why. Now I understand: when I’m stressed and feel like the world is collapsing around me, this dog appears to protect me and create a fantasy that helps me cope.

As I paint this series, my style has become softer, calmer, more gentle. Clouds, bogs, rainbows—memories where I’ve felt like time stood still and the world was beautiful. This series, along with reflections on last year’s experiments and changes, has helped me find my current role and purpose. If I can be reborn from my endless suicidality and meltdowns, so can You. Lets say it alltogether: I’m not struggling with depression, depression is struggling with me!

My grandfather, who passed away in December, always emphasized the importance of community and keeping people close. As an artist, my job is to connect people and bring hope.

To bring color to this endless gray!