8 Billion Ones

"Even though it hurt back then, I forgive you. Because I know that we all go through hard things.

My name is Willow, and one thing I want people to understand about me is that if someone is going through a hard time, I can get down to their level and feel some of the same things they're feeling so I can help lift them back up.

The power of empathy is showing people that they're not alone and that other people understand them.
I've felt alone before.

When I was little, I got bullied. It started when I was really young, around second grade. It got to the point where we had to go to the doctor because nobody knew what was wrong with me. I would get horrible stomachaches and not want to go to school. Eventually, we realized I was making myself sick because I was so nervous about what was happening.

I distinctly remember one time when I wanted to hang out with some friends. They told me no because I wasn't wearing the same bracelets as them. Things like that happened, and I took them to heart.

For a while it turned into a lot of self-doubt.

I was terrified. But I learned something from that experience. I learned not to let people walk all over me. I learned not to care so much about what they think. Most importantly, I learned to stay true to myself.

There have been people in my life who helped me get through hard times. Some of my favorite people in the world showed me that I wasn't alone. They understood me, and because of that, I understand how important it is for other people to feel understood too.

What happened to me shaped who I am today. It makes me stand up for other people whenever something is happening to them and make sure they're okay.

When someone's down, I can usually feel it without them even saying anything. And when I feel that, I'm there for them if they need me.

That's probably what I'm most proud of about myself.
The empathy.

If I met someone going through the same thing I went through, I would tell them to stay true to themselves. Find the people who make them feel happy instead of tearing them down. Find your people and lean on them.

I think everybody is going through something.

That's why, if I could say something to the people who bullied me, I would tell them that even if they think bullying someone is cool, it's not the solution. If they're going through something difficult, they need to find their people and lean on them instead of taking it out on someone else.

Because other people are going through things too.
I wanted to share my story because there are people who are going through the same things I went through, and I want them to know they aren't alone.

This is happening everywhere, but they can get through it.
I know that because I got through it.

And for the people who bullied me, even though it hurt back then, I forgive you.

Because I know that we all go through hard things."

We're grateful to Willow for bravely sharing her story with us. To read Willow's full story on our 8 Billion Ones website, please click the link below:

https://8billionones.org/story-library-six/willow-i-forgive-you

"There’s a phrase that’s followed me through the hardest parts of healing.

Two simple words: “More, please.”

The first time I heard it, it was said gently spoken by my therapist on my eating disorder recovery team as I sat, ashamed and scared, in front of a plate of food. I was used to silence. I was used to shame. I was used to hiding. But she glanced in my direction with so much calm, so much belief, and simply said, “More, please.”
And somehow… it didn’t feel like a demand. It felt like an invitation. Because she saw me, in all of my mess, and cared for me. I could exhale and at least try to face the battle before me. That moment stuck. Because over time, “More please” became more than just about food. It became a symbol of the life I was slowly—sometimes painfully—fighting to reclaim.

More energy.
More connection.
More confidence.
More joy.
More healing.
More rest.
More peace.
More LIFE.

But getting there hasn’t been easy.

I started out in life as a pastor’s kid. I had a whole church love on me. I excelled in school, had good friends, had a supportive family…but mental health does not discriminate.

Depression and anorexia consumed me, but I somehow snuck around in the shadows. At least enough to never really have to deal with it head on. I got into the habit of avoiding or numbing quickly, which escalated to the point of unsafety frequently. Thankfully, I survived, but I didn’t heal.

I’ve had to face trauma I didn’t want to name, let alone relive. All on top of learning to leave the trauma I was living in. I’ve had to learn to navigate single parenting, safety concerns, the legal system, and the ache of being misunderstood. There were days I couldn’t breathe from the weight of it all. Nights I couldn’t sleep because I wasn’t sure if the walls I’d built were keeping me safe or just keeping me numb.

But through it—because of it—I’ve also begun to heal. I have learned how to FEEL instead of numb.
And that’s what I want people to know.

You are seen.

Mental health does not have to equal shame.

Trauma does not define you.

And you are never as alone as you think you are."

Thank you to Amy for so vulnerably sharing her powerful story with all who need to hear it and for the reminder that we are never truly alone. You can read Amy's full story on our 8 Billion Ones website at the link below:

https://8billionones.org/story-library-six/amy-more-please

"A stranger started pushing Izzi's wheelchair without asking."

Meet Izzi.

"Hi, I am Izzi, and I'm 16 years old. I love my friends. My best friends mean the world to me."

I decided to ask her what she liked most about herself, she smiled...

"I'm cute."

She for sure is just that! And then, Izzi began laughing about her answer and I joined in. It was such a nice moment with her. And, then Izzi told me more (which, again, was followed by chuckles).

"Yeah, my dad calls me Pickle. That's his nickname for me."

In case you are wondering, Izzi was born with spina bifida.

"I'm disabled from the waist down. This all started when I was a newborn, so I didn't really think about it. I went through a lot when I was a baby, and now I'm better."

Her mom, Becki, remembers the day they learned the diagnosis during a 20-week ultrasound.

"I made the mistake of Googling it, and it was a terrible experience."

Then she said something I hope people will carry with them.

"Most of the time, she does not see herself as disabled. She feels disabled only when we can't access buildings. When there are steps and she can't get inside. That's when it shows up, but it is not her identity. People assume she can't do things because she's in a wheelchair. A few days ago, someone just started pushing her in a parking lot without asking. She looked panicked. He thought he was helping, but she has her own agency. If people ask her if she needs help, she'll tell them."

And finally, Becki shared the dream every parent understands.

"She lives a fulfilling life, and I believe she always will. I want her to be seen as the positive, joyful person she is. She loves her friends, her family, and baseball. I want her to pursue what fulfills her. And, as a mom, I do dream she gets married and has kids someday, if that's what she wants. But not anytime soon (laughter)."

Izzi...not a diagnosis. Not a wheelchair. A joyful 16-year-old whose life, like all of ours, is defined by far more than what others first see.

The Life I Choose made in partnership with Abilities First, opens this Saturday. C-ART Gallery, 208+ 212 E Commercial Street, Springfield, MO.

Have you ever made an assumption about someone because of their disability?

I hope you'll meet Maria before you answer.

"When we moved to the United States, we learned to love our traditional dancing more than anything. It became a way to identify ourselves. For my daughter, Maria, it became her dream—to dance, to be on a stage, to be the spotlight."

"It wasn't easy. Her coordination was not the same. It's never perfect, but it is what she is. And so we fell in love with dancing."

"Her diagnosis is autism and intellectual disabilities. There was a time when I stopped caring about the diagnosis. What mattered was her future. I told myself, we have to work together. We have to believe in a better future. We have to continue going."

"There were moments when we went many steps backward—times of despair, desperation, and no hope. But then we would breathe, and we would continue. And every single day, she amazes us. She teaches me every day."

"Some people think that someone with a disability is dumb. That is not true. She knows more than me. She feels more than anyone else. She knows when true love is there, and she gives it back. She knows when something is not truthful, and she will let you know."

"I want her to be seen as who she is—a Latin woman. I want people to see the beauty of being different and diverse."

"I want her dreams to come true in the way she wants. I want her to be happy. To be herself. To travel the world without me. To set her own rules. To be happy—every day, every minute. I am so proud to be her mother." —Ana, mom,

Maybe changing the world begins by changing the way we see one another.

"The Life I Choose", created in partnership with Abilities First is opening July 11-September 5 at C-ART Gallery, Springfield, Missouri

Some portrait sessions stay with me long after I put my camera away. My time with Kayla was one of those.

As she sat for her portrait holding photographs of her son, Jackson, her story hit my heart hard. There was a depth of love in her words that I won't soon forget. By the end of our conversation, I found myself thinking not only about Jackson's life, but about the value we place on every human life.

"What I want people to know is that my son had infinite value. His life mattered deeply. And I believe every person in this world carries that same value." — Kayla

The thing I loved most about Jackson was his resiliency. He faced so many hardships in his life—needles, surgeries, procedures he didn't understand but had to endure so we could keep him alive. Yet no matter what he went through, Jackson always came back to joy. When it was over, he would smile. He would laugh. And then he would reach out and hug me.

Jackson gave that same love to everyone he met. It didn't matter who they were. He had this incredible strength inside of him, even though he was so small. I still don't fully understand how he carried that strength, but it inspires me every day. I loved waking up every morning and being his mom.

Sometimes we miss the most beautiful parts of life because we decide someone's worth before we truly know them. This isn't about charity. It's about humanity. Every person deserves dignity and respect because they are human, created in the image of God.

My hope is that we'll live in a world where disability is not seen as a tragedy, but as another way of living life. Jackson showed me that life can still be full of beauty, joy, and strength.

This portrait and story are part of "The Life I Choose", a portrait and film project created in partnership with Abilities First.

Opening July 11–September 5 • C-ART Gallery • Springfield, Missouri

"I never thought I'd have twins. They were a total surprise. They're the girls that I dreamed of.

They arrived early—with flashing lights and screams and chaos. For a while, I didn't believe they were mine. I didn't believe I'd get to keep them. I didn't get to hold them when they were born. They came home with oxygen and apnea monitors, and I had to learn to love them, because I was scared they'd be taken away.

My journey into motherhood is coming into this beautiful love for these two girls that get to be mine.

Alex is sassy and sweet and really hilarious.

Ainsley is creative and thoughtful and introspective. Very curious.

Now they're ten years old. They're just two beautiful girls. You're going to laugh with them and play with them. It won't be the way you thought—but it will be even better.

People living with disabilities don't get as many choices, and that's not fair. So, for Alex, we do what we can, so she has a voice—what shirt she wears, where she goes, who pushes her chair. Even if it's purple or pink, she still gets to choose.

Success is that my girls are alive and here. Living, breathing testaments to success.

My dream is that Alex lives a happy, safe, joy-filled life, that people listen to her and believe in her. For Ainsley, my hope is that she has her own journey. They are two separate and beautiful individuals.

At the end of the day, my dream is that we come back together, each day, as a family and have those beautiful moments.

I want people to see sisters. Two brave, beautiful warriors. Two creative souls.

I want them to be seen for who they are on the inside."

— Andrea, mother of Alex & Ainsley

I am grateful to Andrea for sharing her family's story and allowing me to share a small glimpse into the lives of Alex and Ainsley. They are two of the remarkable individuals you will meet in 'The Life I Choose.'

If you're in Springfield, I hope you'll join us for the opening of 'The Life I Choose' created in partnership with Abilities First, on July 11 at C-ART Gallery, 208 and 212 East Commercial Street. The exhibition will remain on view through September 5.

Some people have a gift for making the world feel brighter. Ethan is one of those people.

Ethan is one of the remarkable individuals featured in "The Life I Choose", a portrait, story, and film exhibition opening July 11 at C-ART Gallery.

When I first met Ethan, it didn't take long to discover that music isn't simply something he enjoys—it is part of who he is. It is how he connects with the world, how he expresses himself, and how he shares joy with others.

It seemed only fitting that his exhibition portrait be created in one of his favorite places—at the keyboard.

Ethan told me:

"I do have a dream. I get to have a concert. Maybe I would be playing some songs for people. My favorite people would be there... Lots of people that I love. That's my dream."

His father, Travis, spoke about Ethan with a tenderness that I will never forget.

"When people meet Ethan, they immediately sense his energy. He has this beautiful ability to be his authentic self wherever he's at."

He also shared something that has stayed with me ever since:

"Music is life for Ethan. It's how he connects with people."

Near the end of our conversation, Travis said something that nearly brought me to tears. It's a sentence I think about almost every day.

"All I want to know is, are you kind? Just be kind."

Maybe that's the lesson Ethan and Travis gave me that day.

Just be kind.

The Life I Choose is a portrait, story, and film exhibition created in partnership with Abilities First. Through portraits and filmed conversations, the project invites viewers into the lives of remarkable individuals living with intellectual and developmental disabilities as they share their hopes, dreams, challenges, and joys in their own words.

July 11 – September 5, 2026
C-Art Gallery
212 East Commercial Street
Springfield, Missouri

PS: Oh, and by the way, Ethan's dream of having a concert came true just a couple weeks ago when he performed a solo show at The Venues.

I have known Lauren now for several years. Family. Music. Human connection. Those are the things that matter most to Lauren.

For the past ten years, she's owned Ten Years Gone Vintage on Springfield's Commercial Street, creating a space filled with art, music, conversation, and community.

"Part of me says the most important thing in life is family because I have small children and they mean the absolute world to me. The other half says music because throughout life, without music I don't know if I'd be here today."

When I asked Lauren what she loves most about owning the store, her answer wasn't about selling things.

"In a world where we have so many online friends and everything social is on our phone, we miss making human connections and I love doing that."

Like many small business owners, Lauren has poured years of her life into something she believes in. She's experienced criticism, self-doubt, long hours, and the constant challenges that come with running an independent business. Yet she continues to show up every day, creating a place where people can gather, connect, and be themselves.

"What love means to me has changed throughout my life. We grow up thinking love is this fairytale. I've realized it's important to love yourself. Without that foundation, how are you supposed to give it to others?"

As our conversation came to a close, Lauren shared the advice she hopes others will remember:

"Find something you're good at and do it. Take the chance. We're the most adaptable creatures on this earth. The most important thing in this life is learning to love and be loved. Do the things you love, as long as you're making money and you're happy. But don't sacrifice one for the other."

Lauren and Willow at Ten Years Gone Vintage.

There are some sessions you don’t forget… and Ryan is one of those people you don’t forget either.

The way he cares, the way he shows love...it’s genuine, joyful, and completely his own. And yes, the glasses slipping down his nose? That’s classic Ryan.

Towards the end of our time together, Ryan lit up and asked if he could go get his girlfriend, Hannah, to be in a few photos. How can you say no to that?

But, after reflecting on the session, what stayed with me most is the story his parents shared…

“Being Ryan’s parents… it’s a gift that I don’t think we fully understood where he would take us. We’ve been very blessed because of it, to get to meet a whole new world that we would have missed.”

“He’s been amazing. He’s brought out the best in us. It’s not always smooth sailing… there have been challenges and heartbreak… but it’s made us who we are as a family.”

“He sets the tone for our family. It’s better. The tone of our family is way better than if we wouldn’t have had Ryan.”

“We’ve always had expectations for him—just like our other kids… maybe with a little more patience. And he’s never disappointed us. He rises to the occasion.”

“We were once afraid of what his future might look like… but those fears were replaced by the community he built for himself.”

Ryan is out in the world—working, connecting, showing up.
An usher at Busch Stadium. Working at Enterprise Center. A MetroLink ambassador. A host at The Fox Theater.

He doesn’t just belong… he creates belonging wherever he goes.

And in Ryan’s words:

“I’m very friendly and easy at making new friends. I’m a hard worker. What makes me happy is hanging out with my friends, my family, and my romantic partner, Hannah… Belonging means making sure people with disabilities know that this is their place and they belong.”

This is Ryan. Full of joy. Full of purpose. And full of love.