My name is Tayah, also known as Chevelle Iliene, my internet and artist name. Growing up in a small town in Eastern Oregon, I faced challenges during my childhood, battling drug addiction from a young age, starting with meth at just 15 years old. My upbringing was marked by alcohol and meth, and I struggled with early-onset depression while often causing trouble in school. I held resentment towards my parents for my past until becoming a parent myself at 23. It was then that I truly understood the difficulties of raising children while battling addiction, striving to create a home far removed from my own experience. The guilt of being an addict and the daily challenge of maintaining my sobriety were overwhelming. Managing my health, recovery, and mental well-being has been one of the toughest journeys as a parent. For nearly four years, I put my art aside, but I have recently rediscovered it, and it has proven to be a lifesaver. Art has become a medium through which I express emotions I had long suppressed, significantly enhancing my mental health. At 25, I faced a high-risk pregnancy with my twin boys. Life-flighted to a hospital in Idaho due to severe preeclampsia, I endured a week of hospitalization as my liver and kidneys began to fail, in pain, and with my family three hours away. After an intense 12 hours of labor, one of my twins arrived at 1 a.m., and I rushed to the NICU before I could see him, leaving only the sound of his little cry. Three hours later, his brother followed, and I desperately wanted to see him before he was taken away. I caught a fleeting glimpse of their tiny faces, both just over 3 pounds—Logan at 3 pounds 4 ounces and Lyric at 3 pounds 6 ounces. Post-Lyric's birth, I faced severe hemorrhaging, yet I remain deeply grateful for my boys and the opportunity to witness all three of my sons grow up. We endured the longest two months of our lives in the NICU, a time during which I reignited my passion for art. I create art to nurture my mental health, channeling my emotions into every painting and drawing. It’s a profoundly personal journey, and I aspire for my work to resonate with others facing similar struggles, offering connection and understanding. You're not alone, and I hope my art can bring comfort and a sense of relatability to those who need it.
