HOW IT STARTED

Let me take you back to 2023.

On paper, nothing was wrong. But my nervous system had other plans. Panic attacks became a regular, uninvited guest, and I found myself constantly trying to talk my own body out of fight-or-flight mode. If you've ever been there, you know the strange thing about mental health struggles: they don't just live in your head. They live in your chest, your breath, your hands and legs. I needed a way back into my body, not just a way to think my way out of it..

And there where two things that could pull me back, again and again: Nature and Craft.

Something about standing under trees, hands in soil, or smelling a flower.. it slowed my heart rate in a way no amount of overthinking ever could. And when I paired that with making things with my hands, something clicked. My nervous system finally had somewhere to land. It was not the only thing, but a big part of my healing i believe. Crafting and nature had become my medicine.

Down the Creative Rabbit Hole

Once I found that combination, I became a little obsessed. I tried everything. Ceramics, painting, weaving, you name it, and trying to work with mostly natural materials.
One craft stuck in a way the others didn't: preserving flowers and sealing them in resin.

There was something almost magical about it. Taking something so fleeting,  a flower that would wilt within days, and giving it a kind of permanence. Suspending a single bloom in resin felt like suspending a moment of peace I'd fought hard to find. It was equal parts science, patience, and reverence for nature. I was hooked.

Opening WeCraftStudio

Riding that high of rediscovery, I did what any newly-obsessed creative does: I wanted to share it. So I opened WeCraftStudio = a physical space where people could come together, get their hands dirty, and nurture their own creativity alongside one another. The idea was beautiful: community, connection, creation, all under one roof.

And for a while, it was.

But here's the part nobody tells you about opening a studio: you don't actually get to make much of anything yourself.

My days became a loop of setting up tables, guiding other people through their projects, and then scrubbing dried resin off every surface long after everyone else had gone home. I was pouring all of my energy into other people's creative processes — which is genuinely rewarding — but I had none left for my own. On top of that, the studio simply wasn't making revenue. Running a space costs more than most people realize, and passion doesn't pay rent.

So, I made the call to close WeCraftStudio..

Turning the Attic Into an Altar

Instead of walking away from craft altogether, I turned inward. I cleared out my top floor and turned it into my own private workshop. No classes to teach, no cleanup after strangers. Just me, my hands, my materials, and that peaceful quiet bubble again.

I finally had room to build an actual relationship with the craft I loved most: flower preservation. Not as a hobby I dabbled in between teaching others, but as my own practice, one I could go deep with.

It combined the two things that had grounded me through my darkest days: creativity and nature. And slowly, tending to that combination daily is what helped me blossom again. The joy i find in it is enormous.

Over the years, that daily devotion became a whole practice of its own:

• Wild flower picking  learning where and when to forage, season by season
• Growing and sourcing my own blooms, building relationships with what nature offers
• The delicate art of preservation because not every flower wants to be preserved, and learning which ones do (and how) takes real trial and error
• Precision and design refining the exact techniques and style that would become Farïdae's signature design for the years to come.

What started as a grounding ritual grown into something way beyond just myself: artisanal jewelry, each piece built with peace, joy and beauty for the next woman to wear.

My sacred Room and slow Process

These days, I tend to my creative space daily. I genuinely lose track of time in there.
Time is disappearing because you're present in the now. My partner always has to giggle a little, about how i do not want anyone to enter my workshop space, because to me, its my sacred room.

But the final design and assembly stages, I often step outside, into nature itself. There's something important about letting a piece made from organic materials and natural findings finish its journey in the same kind of space it came from. The natural surroundings helps me to let the creative flow be activated, and i love that the end-result is birthed in nature :-) 

Well, thats the story of how it started, and how a hard season of my life quietly became the foundation for something I now call my most aligned dream chapter.

Thank you for being here and reading along. Feel free to leave me a message and connect.

Love always,

Farrieda.