Rachel Ye shared their story and experiences with us recently and you can find our conversation below.
Rachel, a huge thanks to you for investing the time to share your wisdom with those who are seeking it. We think it’s so important for us to share stories with our neighbors, friends and community because knowledge multiples when we share with each other. Let’s jump in: What is something outside of work that is bringing you joy lately?
Lately, rollerskating has been bringing me so much unexpected joy. There’s something about the rhythm of movement, the feeling of gliding, and the focus it takes that clears my mind and prepares me mentally for everything else — whether that’s diving into creative tasks, managing my work, or studying to become an art therapy practitioner. It’s become a sort of moving meditation for me. Alongside that, creating art and spending intentional time with my daughters continue to ground me. Whether I’m painting, sculpting, or simply sharing moments with my family, these are the things that refill my cup and remind me why I’m so passionate about helping others heal through creativity.
Can you briefly introduce yourself and share what makes you or your brand unique?
Hi, I’m Rachel Noel Ye — an author, artist, podcaster, real estate agent + investor, and home designer. For years, I quietly carried a dream of writing, unsure if I’d ever make space for it. But recently, I’ve been blessed to turn that dream into reality, publishing deeply personal books including Dear Mom: Here Are My Last Letters to You, The Quiet Before I Roar, and Let Them Remember Me.
My world is a blend of creativity and connection — whether it’s helping clients find a place to call home, designing spaces that reflect their lives, creating art that speaks to healing, or studying to become an art therapy practitioner. Through my work and my words, I aim to help others find beauty in the broken, strength in vulnerability, and hope in transformation. My brand is about honoring every chapter — in life, in home, and in heart — and creating spaces, both physical and emotional, where people can truly belong.
Appreciate your sharing that. Let’s talk about your life, growing up and some of topics and learnings around that. What did you believe about yourself as a child that you no longer believe?
As a child, I believed I was too much and not enough — all at once. Too sensitive, too emotional, too curious, too loud… yet somehow never quite what anyone needed. I thought I had to mold myself to fit the spaces around me, to earn love by shrinking, silencing, or softening who I was.
But now I see those very things — my sensitivity, my depth, my hunger to understand — are the gifts that shape everything I do today. They’re what make me a writer who isn’t afraid to tell hard truths in my books, an artist who pours meaning into every brushstroke, a real estate agent and designer who listens deeply to what makes a house a home, and an art therapy practitioner-in-training who holds space for others to heal.
I no longer believe I have to be less to belong. Instead, I’ve learned that the right spaces, people, and callings will always meet you where you are — and that’s the message I carry into all the work I do.
When did you stop hiding your pain and start using it as power?
I stopped hiding my pain the moment I realized it was never meant to be my cage — it was meant to be my catalyst. For years, I carried wounds quietly, thinking that if I just stayed busy, successful, or needed, I could outrun them. But pain has a way of asking to be seen, and mine finally broke through in the form of exhaustion, burnout, and the deep ache of feeling disconnected from my own heart.
When I began to write my first book, Dear Mom: Here Are My Last Letters to You, something shifted. Putting words to the things I had buried — the grief, the anger, the longing, the hope — cracked something open in me. It wasn’t just about telling my story; it was about reclaiming it. From there, I went on to write The Quiet Before I Roar and Let Them Remember Me, each one pulling threads of pain into something meaningful, something that could reach and heal not just me, but others too.
Today, I use that same power in every part of my work — as an artist, as a home designer creating spaces that reflect people’s souls, as a real estate agent guiding others through major life transitions, and as an art therapy practitioner-in-training helping people find healing through creative expression. My pain became my teacher, my compass, and ultimately, my purpose. I no longer hide it — I honor it, and in doing so, I help others honor theirs too.
I think our readers would appreciate hearing more about your values and what you think matters in life and career, etc. So our next question is along those lines. What important truth do very few people agree with you on?
One important truth I hold is that vulnerability is not weakness — it’s power. For so long, we’re taught to hide the messy, raw parts of ourselves, especially in professional spaces. But I believe that healing, creativity, and even leadership come from being willing to integrate those parts, not erase them.
Another truth I carry is that art and creativity aren’t luxuries or hobbies — they’re survival tools. They help us process grief, make sense of chaos, and connect to one another in ways words sometimes can’t. As a writer, artist, real estate agent, home designer, and art therapy practitioner-in-training, I see every day how creativity shapes not just what we make, but who we become.
I’ve learned that the real work isn’t about striving for perfection — it’s about learning to live in wholeness, where all the parts of you, even the wounded ones, have a place. Not everyone agrees with this, because it asks us to slow down, look inward, and unlearn the idea that worth is measured only by success. But for me, this truth is where the deepest transformation begins — and it’s at the heart of everything I do.
Okay, we’ve made it essentially to the end. One last question before you go. What pain do you resist facing directly?
The pain I still resist facing directly is the grief of the girl I used to be — the versions of me that were never fully seen, protected, or nurtured. I’ve done a lot of healing work, but there’s a part of me that quietly carries the sorrow of childhood wounds, moments of abandonment, and the times I was left to survive on my own emotionally.
As much as I write, create, and help others move toward healing, I know there are still corners in my own heart that I tiptoe around. Facing those tender places feels like stepping into a storm I’m not sure I’m ready for — but I also know that’s where the deepest freedom waits. My legacy, I hope, will not be that I avoided that pain, but that I kept showing up, piece by piece, to make peace with it — and in doing so, helped others find the courage to do the same.
Contact Info:
- Website: https://www.rachelye.com
- Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/girlmom_walkin?igsh=cGsxNGw5ZzU3bTh0&utm_source=qr
- Twitter: https://x.com/raeders818?s=21&t=r9xSFSZ2qYdp-A2-xAG4VA
- Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/RaeDartwork?mibextid=wwXIfr&mibextid=wwXIfr
- Youtube: https://youtube.com/@mamaraepodcast?si=tVLZ2P7CCaB0Dcdk
- Other: https://www.anchor.fm/mama-rae
