Hi, I'm Dana.

I grew up in a small town in Vermont, surrounded by woods, dirt roads, and more freedom than most kids ever get. I had three brothers, a lot of space to explore, and just enough mischief to keep things interesting. But even with all that, I never quite felt at home in my own skin.

In my early teens, I found a way to quiet that discomfort, alcohol. It started as a way to feel like I belonged. Eventually, it became something I depended on. What followed was years of chaos: broken relationships, lost jobs, and a version of myself I could barely recognize.

By 2015, things hit bottom. I was living in Southwest Florida, drinking more than ever, numbing the pain but waking up every day with more of it. I’d lost my job. My son and his wife had moved back to Vermont to escape the whirlwind I had become. One Sunday morning, my parents showed up, always loving, often enabling, but that day, something shifted. My parents got me into a sober living house. That was the first day of my new life.

Recovery wasn’t easy. I felt awkward, unsure, and out of place in the beginning. Recovery meetings became my lifeline. So did the gym. It seemed the only place where my mind would slow down enough to take away the edge. Slowly, with the help of people who believed in me before I believed in myself, I started to change. Not just stop drinking, but really change. I began to understand that alcohol wasn’t the root of all my problems. I was.

That awareness hurt, but it also opened the door to growth.

Sober Canvas started with scribbled sticky notes. Just words I told myself to keep going. Over time, those words turned into something more. I wanted to create visual reminders for people like me. People who are rebuilding, healing, learning to laugh again, and doing the hard, beautiful work of becoming whole.

Each piece in this shop is made with love, grit, and a whole lot of lived experience. Whether you're in recovery, on your own healing journey, or simply starting fresh, I hope you find something here that speaks to you.

You’re not alone. You’re not broken. You’re building something new—and you’re doing it one honest, imperfect, powerful step at a time.

Keep going. You’re worth it.

Warmly,
Dana