Growing up in the Canadian prairies, I have had the distinct privilege of being raised in a unique Ukrainian-Canadian time capsule. I try to treat the world with the same undying compassion my Baba used to share - with a little bit of my Gido's zest, for flavour. Much of my world view has been shaped by this upbringing.

But this part of Canada is also rife with flaws and anti-culture. Poverty, substance abuse, and mental illness has played a large hand in molding my mind, too. As well as witnessing our Indigenous community (including family and friends) face unrelenting racism and discrimination.

I say this only to explain the scope through which my essays are written. I can be passionate, angry, and bitter. Often, people associate the "Canadian gaze" with sunshine, snow, and maple syrup. This isn't always so. Though, I try to sprinkle some of that in, too.

Another significant influence to my writing has been my evolution as a woman. Coming into my 30s, I've only really started to discover and respect myself. I've also had to do a lot of work to overcome stigmas that stunted my mental health, and traumas that held back my growth. While I've traditionally been a private person, I realise now that sharing these stories can be of immense help to others. Or at the very least, cathartic.

But my life isn't all doom and gloom, and neither are my stories. There is plenty to be laughed at, and much to be hopeful for.

Simply put: I hope that, through writing, I can heal and inform others - just as I try to heal and inform myself.