1. The Hidden Cost of Holding It All

There’s a moment when your body stops whispering—and starts shouting.

For me, it came after years of pushing through.
Of holding it all.
Of self-abandonment.

Of being everything to everyone while leaving no space for myself.

What looked beautiful from the outside often felt unsustainable from within.

I didn’t have language for it yet, but I was craving belonging—
To myself.
To the rhythm of the day.
To a space that could hold me while I unraveled, and put myself back together.

2. The Unraveling

Illness has a way of peeling things back.
Motherhood, too.

In my case, it was both—though illness came first.

I had spent years studying wellness, herbalism, nutrition.
I knew how to care for the body, at least on paper.
But the biggest missing piece was where I lived.

My home once supported my nervous system.
I had created a place of rhythm, warmth, and rest.
But we lost that home—the one I thought would hold us forever.
We moved five times in just a few years. With each move, something deeper shifted.
The ground beneath me no longer felt steady.

That loss, that displacement, wasn’t just logistical.
It was soul-deep.

It was a ripple in my path, a sacred disruption that forced me to reimagine not just where we lived—but how.

That’s when I began to see design differently.

3. Rediscovering Wholeness in Space

I began to slow down.
To notice how I felt in each room.
To pay attention to where my eyes wanted to land—and what they avoided.

I started to pare back.
To layer intentionally.
To create beauty that felt like an exhale—not a performance.

I surrounded myself with texture, rhythm, softness, stillness.
The shift was subtle, but profound.

And slowly, I came home to myself.

4. Quarry Co. Was Born From This Place

Quarry Co. wasn’t born in a studio.
It was born in my body.
In the quiet. In the unraveling. In the remembering.

It became a container for everything I believe:

• That homes should regulate our nervous systems, not drain them.
• That materials should age with us, not resist us.
• That beauty should restore—not perform.

Quarry means to dig beneath the surface.
And that’s what this work is.
Unearth. Refine. Restore.

5. A Place to Belong

If you’re here, maybe you’ve felt it too—
The quiet ache for a space that reflects who you’re becoming,
Not just what you’ve collected.

This is not about perfection.
It’s about presence. Wholeness.
Home as a place of return.

This is why I design.
Not just to make homes beautiful—
But to make them belong to you.