If my life were a TV show, the opening scene would absolutely start like that meme — you know, the one where Rod Serling says, “What you’re about to watch is a nightmare.”
Except in my case, it’s less of a horror story and more of a chaotic dramedy starring a stubborn nature photographer, a three-legged dog with a big attitude, and a never-ending lineup of medical appointments, caregiving moments, and surprise plot twists.
I’m the kind of person who tries to find the calm in the chaos — usually by chasing sunsets, photographing quiet trails, or talking to trees like they’re old friends. I grew up on a cattle farm in rural Minnesota, learned how to drive a skid-steer before I learned how to parallel park, and somehow that farm-kid heart still beats under all the technology, therapy sessions, and coffee cups scattered around my workspace.
These days I live life on crutches (sometimes wheels), juggling disability, caregiving, and photography — and trying to make it all look like a semi-functional adult life.
Spoiler: it’s not always graceful, but it’s real.
🐄 Farm Life, Accidents, and Finding New Rhythms
Farm life teaches you a few things early: hard work, respect for the land, and that sometimes life changes in an instant. A farm injury is how I became disabled — a twist in my story that no one plans for, but one that shaped how I see the world now.
Growing up wasn’t exactly picture-perfect. My dad wasn’t the easiest person to be around, and my mom was doing her best just to survive. It wasn’t always peaceful, but it taught me grit, independence, and how to notice small moments of calm when everything feels loud.
There’s something grounding about growing up around animals and open skies; it’s like the world quietly whispers lessons about resilience and stubborn hope.
Those lessons have followed me ever since — through chronic pain, medical chaos, and all the “I can’t believe this is my life” moments.
📸 How Photography Found Me
Photography started as a hobby, but it slowly became the way I breathe. I don’t always get to hike the steep trails or chase waterfalls like I used to, but I’ve found beauty in the quiet corners — tree roots tangled in moss, reflections in puddles, and sunlight filtering through branches just right.
I’ve learned that you don’t need a fancy camera to make art. Some of my favorite shots — even Milky Way photos — were taken on my phone during nights when my body wouldn’t let me haul around a heavy DSLR.
It’s not about the gear; it’s about seeing the moment and sharing it with others who might not get to experience it firsthand.
🏡 Our So-Called Crazy Life (a.k.a. The Household Sitcom)
It’s not about the gear; it’s about seeing the moment and sharing it with others who might not get to experience it firsthand.
Life in our house is a little bit like a sitcom that never quite follows the script. Between caregiving, medical appointments, and random acts of chaos, there’s always something happening — and usually not what we planned.
I’m a caregiver for my cousin, who has autism, and for my mom, who’s navigating dementia and other health issues.
My significant other (they/them) is my partner in all things — smart, patient, and armed with enough dark humor to keep us both sane. They’re finishing a math degree and can somehow do calculus and make me laugh when I’m falling apart, which should honestly qualify as a superpower.
And then there’s Moosie, our three-legged dog, emotional-support comedian, and self-appointed therapy assistant. He’s not a big fan of car rides, insists on being present during my online therapy sessions, and has more personality than most people I know. He reminds me that joy isn’t about perfection — it’s about persistence (and belly rubs).
This is the rhythm of our days: care, coffee, chaos, repeat.
Some days I feel like I’ve got it together; other days I feel like Bilbo Baggins — “butter scraped over too much bread.”
But even in the overwhelm, there are moments that stop me in my tracks — a quiet sunset, laughter echoing in the kitchen, or Moosie snoring like he’s solving world peace.
Those moments are what keep me going.
🌸 Why I Started “Our So Called Crazy Life”
Somewhere between medical paperwork, caregiving chaos, and late-night photo edits, I realized I needed a space that was mine — something quiet, creative, and real. That’s how Our So Called Crazy Life was born.
This blog is a way to share the small, hidden beauty I find in the world — and to remind others (especially those living with disabilities, chronic illness, or caregiving burnout) that calm and creativity still exist, even in the chaos. I wanted a space where nature, accessibility, and honesty could coexist without filters or pressure to be “inspirational.”
Photography has become my bridge between worlds — between the days I can walk through the woods and the days I can only watch the sunlight move across my floor.
Every photo, every post, is my way of saying: You’re not alone. You’re not broken. You’re still part of this wild, beautiful world.
And because I believe in access for everyone, I try to make my photos and words a kind of window — for people who can’t always explore nature in person.
If my lens can bring a bit of that peace to someone else’s day, then I’ve done what I set out to do.
☕ What You’ll Find Here
This blog isn’t polished or picture-perfect — and honestly, I prefer it that way.
Here, you’ll find a mix of photography, storytelling, and the occasional deep thought that sneaks out between coffee refills.
Some posts will be about accessibility and caregiving, others about chasing light with my camera or trying to find peace in the middle of a flare-up.
You’ll find honesty here — the good, the messy, and the in-between. I talk about the parts of life that often stay behind closed doors: disability, exhaustion, hope, resilience, and humor that sometimes feels like survival.
And in between it all, you’ll find photos of the quiet moments that keep me grounded — tree roots tangled near waterfalls, night skies that remind me how small I am, and trails that feel like they’re waiting for me to come back.
I come from messy beginnings, but I believe beauty still grows there. And I think that’s what this space is really about — finding the light that sneaks through the cracks.
If you’ve ever felt like you’re too much or not enough at the same time — or like you’re trying to live a meaningful life in a body that doesn’t always cooperate — then you’re in the right place.
🌙 A Soft Goodbye (for Now)
Thanks for stopping by — it really does mean more than you know.
Come as you are, bring your coffee (or tea), and maybe a treat for Moosie.
I hope what you find here reminds you that even in the chaos, there’s beauty — and that your story matters, just the way it is.