Transcending Joy isn’t just a name I chose for my Threads platform — it’s who I am. It’s my story of moving forward, healing through creation, and finding light even in the darkest moments.
The last few years have tested me in ways I never imagined. The year after moving from Arizona to Ohio — when I was still married — my dad was killed in a car accident right before Thanksgiving. Then came my divorce. Soon after, I faced a scam where the person became threatening — the FBI was notified, though nothing came of it — and I was pushed into a house I couldn’t afford. I lost one dog under heartbreaking circumstances, then my cat to old age and cancer, leaving only the dog my best friend gave me.
I’ll admit I felt bitter and resentful at times, feeling like no one truly understood my grief, losses, or loneliness. But I chose to find beauty anyway — in nature, in photography, and in the quiet moments that remind me the world still holds wonder.
Scotland has always been my anchor. Its wild landscapes, misty hills, and timeless stories reflect the same endurance and courage I’ve discovered in myself.
And Sam Heughan has been a source of inspiration and hope. Watching him run a marathon for blood cancer research moved me deeply — his determination, heart, and quiet focus reminded me of the power of resilience. His projects — The Sassenach Spirits, Galloway Distillery, and My Peak Challenge — show the impact of passion combined with purpose. They remind me to keep believing in my own journey, to create, and to live with heart.
The unicorn, my spirit animal, embodies the rare, magical, independent part of me that refuses to stop believing, even when life feels heavy.
Now, I’m preparing for a new chapter — an air transition, moving to California to be closer to family, and opening my heart to possibility. Maybe, just maybe, the right person will come into my life when I least expect it.
Transcending Joy is my declaration. It’s proof that even through heartbreak, loss, and loneliness, I can still find light. I can still find purpose. I can still find joy. 🌈✨
To Sam Heughan and his incredible team — your creativity, passion, and heart have inspired me more than words can express. Your work reminds me that resilience and joy can coexist, and that even in life’s storms, purpose and magic remain. I hope this story resonates and shares just a glimpse of how deeply your spirit has touched mine.
If you had a million dollars to give away, who would you give it to?
If I had $1 million, I wouldn’t spend it on luxury or fleeting comforts — I’d give it straight to the UK Blood Cancer charity. Because for me, the true heroes aren’t the ones who live in the spotlight; they’re the ones who fight quietly, day after day, against something they never asked for.
Blood cancer doesn’t always get the same attention as other diseases, but it’s every bit as devastating. It can strike anyone, anywhere, regardless of age or background. It changes families, futures, and lives in ways most of us can’t imagine. Those who endure it — the patients, their families, the medical teams who support them — are the real champions.
I’m not disregarding any other affliction; every illness brings its own kind of suffering. But blood cancer, with its hidden battles and unpredictable nature, is something that deserves more awareness, more research, and more compassion.
Sam Heughan himself has me thinking about that a lot. Through the marathons he runs to raise funds for blood cancer charities, he shows what it means to use one’s platform and strength for something greater than oneself. His dedication and heart remind me that compassion in action is one of the most powerful forces we have.
So yes — if I had that million dollars, I’d want it to make a difference where courage is tested daily, where hope is a lifeline, and where love and resilience shine brightest: in the fight against blood cancer.
If reading this moves you, consider donating, volunteering, or simply spreading awareness. Even a small gesture can make a big impact. And if you ever need inspiration, look no further than Sam Heughan — his endurance, compassion, and unwavering support for those battling blood cancer remind us that true strength lies in kindness.
People sometimes wonder why I write about Sam Heughan so often, why my thoughts keep circling back to him. For me, the answer runs deep: as an autistic individual, the way I connect with the world is unique, intense, and sometimes hard to explain. And Sam Heughan—through his book Waypoints, his acting, his love of Scotland, and now his new Galloway Distillery—has become a rare point of focus and inspiration. He grounds me, lifts me, and shows me that following your own path can be both brave and beautiful.
The Lessons of Waypoints
When I first read Waypoints: My Scottish Journey, I didn’t just see a memoir. I saw a map of resilience. Sam walking the West Highland Way mirrored the way I sometimes feel moving through life—taking one step at a time, noticing every detail, carrying both the weight and wonder of the journey.
As an autistic person, I often feel things more sharply, both the joy and the struggle. His reflections in Waypoints gave me permission to honor that intensity rather than hide it. He reminded me that persistence and self-discovery come from being fully present, even in the uncomfortable or uncertain moments.
Rooted in Heritage
What resonates most deeply with me is Sam’s devotion to his roots. Autistic people often find comfort and strength in the places, people, or passions that anchor us. Seeing how he stays tied to Scotland—its landscapes, its history, its people—speaks to my own need for grounding and belonging. His pride in heritage makes me feel less alone in how fiercely I hold onto the things that matter most to me.
The Inspiration of Robert the Bruce and William Wallace
Part of that heritage for me—and for Sam too—lives in Scotland’s history. Sam has mentioned figures like Robert the Bruce and William Wallace, and has shown the historical sites and memorials tied to their names.
As someone autistic, I naturally connect deeply with symbols and stories, and Robert the Bruce especially inspires me. His perseverance after defeat, his resilience in the face of overwhelming odds, and his eventual triumph remind me of the same courage and authenticity Sam embodies.
I also admire William Wallace, whose fierce devotion to freedom still echoes in Scotland’s spirit. These men remind me that history is not just something in the past—it’s alive, breathing through people who carry it forward. Sam makes that history feel close, almost personal, and through him I’ve come to love and honor their legacy as well.
The Galloway Distillery — Coming Home
Sam’s new Galloway Distillery is more than just a business move. To me, it feels like a homecoming. It’s about creating something lasting in the very place that shaped him. That matters, because as someone autistic, I deeply understand the importance of place—how landscapes can soothe, how roots can steady, how home can mean safety and pride.
The distillery isn’t just whisky—it’s a story, a bridge between tradition and future, between ambition and authenticity. Watching him make that choice gives me courage to believe I can also create something of value that reflects who I am and where I come from.
How He Reaches Me in the Best Autistic Way
Sam affects me in the best autistic way possible. I often see the world in vivid detail, feel emotions with an intensity that others might overlook, and struggle to translate those feelings outward. Yet when I watch him or read his words, they cut through the noise and land with clarity.
He makes me feel understood without explanation. His honesty, his humor, his passion for Scotland—they connect directly to the way I experience life. He helps me embrace my own sensitivity, reminding me it’s not a flaw, but a form of beauty.
Outlander and the Reminder of Genuine Love
Through Outlander, Sam’s portrayal of Jamie Fraser brought me a lesson that stays close to my heart: not to forget about genuine love and devotion. Jamie’s loyalty, tenderness, and unwavering strength reminded me that real love isn’t fleeting—it’s steadfast, patient, and deeply rooted.
As an autistic individual, I sometimes worry about connection and whether I’ll find someone who truly understands me. But watching Jamie’s story gave me hope: that love built on trust and devotion is not just possible, but worth waiting and fighting for. Through Sam, that character became more than fiction—it became a reminder that genuine love still exists in this world.
Why Sam Matters to Me
To me, Sam is more than an actor or entrepreneur—he is a light. I see him as an extraordinary man with a heart of gold, an earth angel wrapped in the form of a cheeky, brilliant, joyful Scotsman. He radiates sunshine, and that light has touched me in ways I can’t always describe.
People might call it a fixation. But for me, it’s focus. It’s passion. It’s the autistic way of cherishing something—or in this case, someone—that brings meaning and balance. Sam inspires me to believe in the good, to hold onto hope, and to chase my dreams with the same authenticity he carries.
Why I Create Art With Him at the Center
People also probably wonder why I create art—and why Sam is so often the star within it. The answer is that art is how I process the world. It’s how I take feelings that are too big to hold inside and turn them into something visible, something shareable.
When Sam becomes the subject of my art, it isn’t about celebrity—it’s about connection. He symbolizes light, resilience, and joy, and weaving him into my creations is my way of honoring that.
As an autistic individual, creativity is my language. Through my drawings, edits, words, and images of him, I find both expression and calm. Sometimes, I also weave in the spirit of Robert the Bruce or William Wallace alongside him, because they too represent resilience, courage, and Scotland’s soul. Sam becomes the bridge between my inner world and the outside world—the focus that allows me to channel intensity into beauty.
Why It Inspires Me
Sam’s journey shows me that ambition and integrity can live side by side. From walking the rugged Highlands to pouring his heart into a distillery, he reminds me that success doesn’t mean abandoning who you are—it means becoming more of it.
That lesson pushes me to pursue my own creative passions, like photography, writing, and dreaming of projects that reflect my love for culture, storytelling, and conservation. His path whispers to me: your voice matters too, and what you create can carry meaning.
A Closing Reflection
Watching Sam Heughan move from Waypoints to whisky, from self-discovery to community building, I feel like I’ve witnessed the kind of journey I want for myself: rooted in authenticity, alive with courage, and full of heart.
As an autistic individual, I often long for connection, for purpose, for something steady to hold onto. Sam gives me that spark of inspiration. He shows me that even in a world that can feel overwhelming, it’s possible to stay true to who you are and still build something extraordinary.
Because sometimes, the most inspiring journeys aren’t only about the person we admire—they’re about how they awaken something inside us, reminding us to begin again, in our own way.
This flower stands as a symbol of America today. Its petals, darkened and heavy with drops of water, reflect the struggles our nation carries—the weight of division, the storms of uncertainty, and the trials that test our strength.
But like this flower, America does not fall. Even in the darkest hour, its foundation is strong, its roots unshaken. Our country has faced hardship before—wars, depressions, and deep divides—and each time, we have risen stronger, united by the belief that freedom and justice are worth fighting for.
The battle we face today is not just about politics or power. It is about remembering who we are as a people. It is about choosing unity over division, strength over fear, and faith in the promise of tomorrow.
Just as the flower carries the storm and still stands tall, so will America. Because this nation was built to endure, built to overcome, and built to shine again.
When considering my favorite historical figures, I often find myself drawn to those who have made a significant impact on their nation’s history. While there are many remarkable individuals to choose from, Robert the Bruce stands out as my favorite Scottish historical figure.
Robert the Bruce, King of Scots from 1306 to 1329, played a pivotal role in Scotland’s fight for independence from England. His leadership and determination were instrumental in securing Scotland’s freedom, most notably through his victory at the Battle of Bannockburn in 1314. This triumph not only demonstrated his military prowess but also his ability to inspire and unite the Scottish people during a time of great adversity.
What I admire most about Robert the Bruce is his resilience. Despite facing numerous setbacks, including excommunication and the loss of his lands, he never wavered in his commitment to Scotland’s cause. His perseverance in the face of overwhelming odds is a testament to his character and dedication.
Moreover, Robert the Bruce’s legacy extends beyond his military achievements. He was a shrewd statesman who worked tirelessly to consolidate his kingdom and secure recognition of Scotland’s independence. His efforts culminated in the Treaty of Edinburgh-Northampton in 1328, which recognized Scotland as an independent nation.
In choosing Robert the Bruce as my favorite Scottish historical figure, I am inspired by his courage, leadership, and unwavering commitment to his country’s freedom. His story is a powerful reminder of the impact one individual can have on the course of history, and it continues to resonate with me today.
Sources for Further Reading:
Books:
“Robert the Bruce: King of the Scots” by Ronald McNair Scott.
“The Wars of the Bruces: Scotland, England and Ireland 1306–1328” by Colm McNamee.
The cardinal’s song catches me off guard, a fleeting note that pulls me back to Dad. His stories, his warmth, the way he made life feel anchored—they’re gone now, and the silence cuts deep. It’s the same ache I carry for Toby, my dog, who’d bound toward me with uncontainable joy, and Little Grey, my cat, whose soft purrs were a quiet constant in my days. Losing them carved hollows in my heart, places I’m still learning to tread lightly. And then there’s my marriage—eight years of love, dreams, and promises I thought would hold strong, even after the move to Ohio. I believed we’d weather that change together, but instead, it unraveled, leaving me with a longing for the forever I’d envisioned with my ex-husband.
I read about Sam Heughan, how he reconnected with his dad after years apart, only to lose him to illness. That resonates. Like Sam, I know the sting of missed moments, the ache of what might have been. He walked Scotland’s trails to find meaning in his loss, piecing himself together in the quiet of the highlands. I find my own path in smaller things—a cardinal’s call, a flash of Toby’s wagging tail in my memory, or Little Grey’s gentle gaze. They’re not just gone; they’re woven into who I am, guiding me forward even as I grieve.
The move to Ohio was supposed to be a new chapter, not the end of us. I’d pictured my marriage enduring, growing stronger through the change—a shared adventure with laughter and late-night talks, like the early days with my ex-husband. But disconnection crept in, slow and relentless, until divorce became the only road left. That loss—of love, of the future we planned—feels like another death, layered atop losing Dad, Toby, and Little Grey. It’s a weight I carry, the dream of a marriage that should have lasted, that I fought to hold onto. Yet, like Sam’s Jamie Fraser, who loses family and home but presses on, I’ve found strength in carrying that grief. I hold tight to the love I felt—Dad’s warm laugh, Toby’s loyal nudge, Little Grey’s quiet presence, and the moments when my marriage felt unbreakable. Those memories shape me, teaching me what connection can mean.
Now, as I prepare for another transition—moving to California for simplicity and a fresh start—I feel the echo of these losses but also the hope they’ve sparked. I’m not there yet, but I’m reaching for a place where I can rebuild, where the weight of Ohio’s disconnection might lift. I crave authentic connection, the kind I’ve always chased, where hearts meet openly, like the love I once believed in with my ex-husband. Sam turned his grief into purpose, building something meaningful through his charity. I’m finding mine in the small signs—a dragonfly landing, a bird’s song, a moment that feels like Dad, Toby, or Little Grey whispering, “Keep going.” These losses, these transitions, have taught me to love fiercely, to seek kindness, to chase what matters. The marriage I thought would last didn’t, but it showed me what I’m capable of giving and what I still hope to find. As I step toward this new chapter in California, I carry their love with me, ready to weave new threads of hope, just as Sam found his through his own journey of loss and discovery.
From the time I was a young kid, the weather has held me spellbound, a wild and awe-inspiring force that both captivates and humbles me. I can still recall the thrill of working on a middle school report about tornadoes, diving deep into their chaotic beauty and untamed power. My teacher raised an eyebrow, suggesting to my dad that I should’ve done it alone, but the truth is, I poured my heart into that project—my dad just helped me polish my ideas. That experience wasn’t just a school assignment; it lit a fire in me, sparking a lifelong reverence for Mother Nature, one of my greatest inspirations, a boundless muse whose storms, serenity, and raw beauty fuel my creativity and remind me of the deep, healing connection we share with the world around us.
When I first picked up a camera, my passion for nature found a new outlet. I dreamed of chasing storms, not just to capture their swirling formations but to preserve fleeting moments of nature’s raw, unfiltered spirit. Storms have a haunting duality—they can devastate, leaving heartbreak in their wake, yet their towering clouds and electric energy are undeniably beautiful. Through my lens, I see tornadoes as a reminder of how much we take for granted, urging us to pause and respect the forces that shape our world. Mother Nature doesn’t bow to our plans; she demands our attention, teaching us resilience and humility through her breathtaking artistry.
Beyond storms, nature in all its forms has always been my refuge. To me, nature is the greatest medicine a human being could ever have. Whether it’s the roar of thunder, the gentle rustle of leaves, or the quiet calm of a forest after rain, being immersed in the natural world feels like a reset for the soul. It heals, it grounds, it reminds me who I am. The nature of humanity and the natural world are intertwined in countless ways—through the air we breathe, the landscapes that shape our stories, and the moments of wonder that bind us to something greater. Every time I’m out there, camera in hand, I feel that connection, like I’m part of a larger story written by the earth itself.
Photography, for me, is more than a craft; it’s a way to tell stories that stir the heart, to capture the fleeting beauty of the world and share it with others. Inspired by those who live with purpose and authenticity, I want my work to reflect that same depth, to show the fierce elegance of a storm or the quiet grace of a sunrise. Mother Nature, as one of my muses, guides me to create with intention, to stay rooted in what’s real, and to honor the world’s beauty and power. Her lessons go beyond her storms—they’re in the way she calls us to live more fully, to respect her boundaries, and to find healing and meaning in every moment, no matter how fleeting.
As I gaze at this image of the ski lift winding its way up the mountain, I’m struck by a profound sense of peace and possibility. The evergreen trees, standing tall and unwavering against the rocky terrain, remind me of resilience—the quiet strength that endures through changing seasons. Their deep green contrasts beautifully with the clear blue sky, dotted with soft, drifting clouds, and I can almost feel the crisp, cool air on my skin, even from here.
There’s something meditative about the sight of the lift chairs moving steadily upward, empty and serene in this moment. It’s as if they’re carrying not just skiers or snowboarders, but the weight of anticipation, adventure, and freedom. I see myself in those chairs, rising above the challenges of the ground below—literal and metaphorical—toward new heights and perspectives. The rugged path beneath, with its mix of dirt, rocks, and patches of grass, speaks to the journey itself: not always smooth, but rich with texture and beauty if you take the time to notice.
This scene evokes a deep appreciation for nature’s grandeur and its ability to ground us. The solitude of the mountain, broken only by the gentle hum of the lift, feels like a sanctuary—a place where I can disconnect from the noise of daily life and reconnect with something larger than myself. I imagine the stories these trees could tell, standing witness to countless winters, summers, and the thrill-seekers who pass through. It’s a reminder to slow down, to breathe, and to cherish the journey as much as the destination.
Yet, there’s also a hint of melancholy in the empty chairs. It makes me wonder about the people who’ve ridden them—where they’re from, what brought them here, and what dreams they carried up the mountain. It’s a quiet invitation to reflect on my own path: Am I moving forward with purpose? Am I taking time to appreciate the view, or am I too focused on reaching the top?
Ultimately, this image feels like a mirror for my thoughts—a blend of awe, introspection, and hope. It’s a snapshot of a moment that feels both fleeting and eternal, urging me to step outside, breathe deeply, and embrace the ascent, wherever it may lead.
Top of the peaks in flagstaff Summer chairlift rideSam Francisco peaks during winterSan Francisco peaks during the summertime
Deep Thinking 