When I graduated in May of 2025, I was full of hope.

For years, I had dreamed of creating Care Grown Collective—a community built by and for people who have experienced the child welfare system. Whether someone grew up in foster care, group homes, or institutional care, I wanted there to be a place where lived experience wasn’t something to hide. It would be something to build from.

The idea came from my own experience.

Like many people who grew up in care, I know what it’s like to search for belonging long after you’ve left the system. I know how invisible people with care experience can become once they age out. We often carry our stories quietly, even though they continue to shape our lives in ways that others may never fully understand.

Care Grown Collective was my way of saying, we’re still here. Our experiences matter. Our voices matter. And we deserve spaces where we can connect, support one another, and help shape the conversations about child welfare in Canada.

Then life changed.

Shortly after graduating, I was offered a job that I was incredibly excited about. It felt like an opportunity I couldn’t pass up. Around the same time, though, my health began to decline.

As the months went on, I had less and less energy to devote to this passion project. Between work and becoming increasingly ill, something had to give.

Unfortunately, it was Care Grown Collective.

For a long time, I saw that as a failure.

Now I see it differently.

Sometimes life asks us to set down even the things we love most—not because they’ve stopped mattering, but because surviving has to come first.

Today, my circumstances look very different.

My health now means that I’m home full-time. It’s not the future I imagined for myself, and I won’t pretend that’s been an easy reality to accept. But in the quiet that comes with this new chapter, I’ve found myself returning to the dream that never really left me.

Care Grown Collective.

I don’t know exactly what this organization will become.

I don’t know how much I’ll be able to accomplish, or how quickly. Chronic illness has a way of teaching you to let go of rigid timelines.

What I do know is this:

Every conversation about youth in care matters.

Every opportunity to challenge stereotypes matters.

Every chance to celebrate the resilience, leadership, and humanity of people with lived experience matters.

And every person who has experienced care deserves to know they are not alone.

So I’m taking Care Grown Collective out of mothballs.

Over the coming months, I’ll be sharing stories, research, reflections, resources, and advocacy focused on people who have experienced Canada’s child welfare system. I’ll be talking about the challenges—but also about the incredible strength, creativity, and compassion that exists within our community.

Too often, people with care experience are spoken about.

I’d rather create a space where we’re heard.

If you’ve followed this journey before, thank you for staying.

If you’re finding Care Grown Collective for the first time, welcome. I hope you’ll join me as we build something rooted in compassion, lived experience, and the belief that community can change lives.

I’m not coming back because I know exactly what the future holds.

I’m coming back because this work still matters.

And because I still believe that together, we can help ensure that people with care experience are seen, valued, and never forgotten.