November 1, 2026

When I was a kid, I was ‘defiant,’ always standing on a soapbox, yelling at the top of my lungs that things were not right. And after years of being met with the same narrative, and once I was old enough to find my own ‘solution,’ I stepped down and obliged. I began to use anything I could that would make me forget what was wrong in my world.

No one saw me or what I was going through.

I had vague memories of my mothers friend Susan and her daughter Marie. I remember playing with Marie as a child when they lived in Ohio, and then going to visit them in New Mexico with our whole family once, but it wasn't until the solo trip I took with my mother as a teenager that I really saw who Susan was and why she was so influential in this world. 

At 15 or 16 years old I was so deep into numbing that I brought weed on the airplane. I smoked it in the bathroom, on the plane. I can't believe I didn't get caught, but I didn't bring a lot, and ran out before we even landed. All I could think about was how I needed more, it was all that was on my mind. When I got to New Mexico, I figured I’d ask Marie for some, she was my age and everyone I knew my age was smoking, but I was met with opposition.

I tried my best to enjoy the trip anyway, but I felt raw and vulnerable, and I wanted to go home. Still, I tried. I went to school with Marie on her first day, visiting as a guest, and when we returned home, Susan asked me a question.

She asked if I wanted to come live with her.

I wanted to, but I didn't know how to be that brave, but I felt something in that moment that I hadn't felt enough of. I felt seen.

In my adult life, I've often thought about that moment, wishing I had taken the leap. I've often wondered what Susan saw in me. What she understood about the pain I was carrying. What made her look at a troubled teenager and decide to offer her a place to land.

She saw that something wasn't right, and instead of looking away, she offered to do something about it. 

And I never forgot it.

I think we underestimate the impact we have on one another. We imagine changing the world requires grand gestures, extraordinary achievements, or recognition from millions of people. But what if it doesn't?

What if changing the world sometimes just means changing the direction of one person's life, even if it's just planting a singular seed? I'm not sure if Susan ever really knew the impact that interaction had on my life.

I've always followed her from afar, watching with admiration as she continued to create, explore, and live so unapologetically as herself. Striving, in my own way, to become more like the woman who had once seen me when I so desperately needed to be seen.

Susan lived an extraordinary life. She was an artist, an adventurer, and a lifelong creator who never stopped exploring her creativity. Her legacy lives on through the art she made, the people she loved, and the lives she touched.

This week, I’m painting Susan Kohl to honor the impact she had on the world, including mine.

Susan’s family is raising funds to preserve the home she lovingly curated over decades—a home that reflects her creativity, history, and spirit. It’s also the same home she once offered to me, many moons ago.

If Susan’s story resonates with you, please consider donating to or sharing the GoFundMe.

My painting series reaches thousands of people each week. Imagine if just 5,000 of us contributed $25. That’s $125,000. Think about what we could accomplish together.

We may never know how far our kindness travels, but its impact can reach further than we imagine.

Sometimes, changing the world doesn't mean changing the whole world. It means changing someone else's.

Today, I'm asking you to help change the world for Susan's family. Help them preserve the home she so thoughtfully created and the beautiful life she built within its walls.

Let's show them that the impact Susan made during her lifetime continues long after her passing.