This piece was painted during the emotional fallout of an arduous five-year battle to get my profoundly autistic children the education and support they deserved. What looks like a burst of chaotic beauty is, in truth, a portrait of burnout, desperation, and a quiet rage buried under bright and joyful petals. The flowers represent the fragile, unseen resilience of carers — especially mothers — who are repeatedly failed by systems designed to help. Every bloom in this “bouquet” was painted in a haze of exhaustion, grief, and defiance. It's the mask we wear for the outside world- pretending we are fine, smiling- as we thrash our way through the thorns of a world that wasn't built for us. I finished this painting the week my children started their new special needs schools — when I could finally accept they were safe... and happy. It ends on an exhale, a long-overdue sigh of relief. It holds the weight of what we’ve endured, the will to keep going, and the quiet belief that if we don’t give up, we’ll eventually be okay.