We recently had the chance to connect with Sandy Patterson and have shared our conversation below.
Sandy, 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 do you think others are secretly struggling with—but never say?
I think a lot of people secretly struggle with believing they’re allowed to take up space. They feel like they need to be smaller, quieter, more polished, or more put together than they really are. Parents apologize for their kids being too wild. Couples laugh nervously and say they’re awkward. Entrepreneurs admit, only after some trust is built, that they feel completely overwhelmed by the digital side of business. Underneath it all is the same thread: the worry that who they are in this moment isn’t “enough.”
It’s something I’ve seen again and again, not just through my photography, but in my own life too. I think it matters to name it, because the truth is we connect most deeply with the imperfect, the messy, the human parts of each other. The laughter in the chaos, the tearful vows in the rain, the creative finally daring to show up online. That’s where the real beauty lives.
Can you briefly introduce yourself and share what makes you or your brand unique?
Hi, I’m Sandy Patterson, the heart behind Wild Prairie Photography here in Colorado Springs. I’m a natural light family and couples photographer, and what lights me up most is creating space where people can breathe, let go of the pressure to be perfect, and just be themselves. Kids running barefoot, parents finally exhaling, couples wrapped up in each other, those are the moments I’m after. My goal has never been just to take pretty pictures, but to honor real connection in a way that feels like home when you look back at it years later.
Over time, my work has grown beyond photography into a bigger mission of helping people be seen and celebrated in different ways. That’s where The Wild Presence Project was born,a space where I help creative women entrepreneurs set up their websites, SEO, and online presence so they can feel confident showing up in the digital world. It’s less about algorithms and more about empowerment: helping them realize they already have a story worth sharing, they just need the right tools.
I also host Creatrix Catalyst, a retreat experience that began with our first gathering in Mexico City in 2025. These retreats are a blend of education, creativity, and community, designed for women who want to deepen their artistry and expand their businesses while connecting in inspiring places. Looking ahead, we’re preparing for Colorado in 2026 and Scotland in 2027, each one evolving as the community itself grows.
So whether I’m photographing a family under golden light, guiding a business owner through her online setup, or gathering women around a retreat table, it all comes back to the same thing: helping people feel safe, seen, and fully themselves.
Okay, so here’s a deep one: What breaks the bonds between people—and what restores them?
I think what breaks the bonds between people, more often than not, is disconnection. Not just physical distance, but the kind that happens when we stop slowing down long enough to really see each other. We get busy, distracted, and caught up in what we “should” be doing, and little by little, we forget to be present with the people we love.
What restores those bonds is presence. It’s the small, everyday moments, sharing a meal without phones on the table, walking together under the evening sky, or even laughing through the chaos of a photo session. Those little pauses where we set down the noise and lean into each other bring us back to what matters.
That’s one of the reasons I love photography so much: it doesn’t just capture connection, it creates it. Families end up holding hands, couples fall into laughter, kids run wild, and in the middle of it, the bonds that felt stretched thin start to weave back together again.
What have been the defining wounds of your life—and how have you healed them?
This one’s a biggie, and honestly, it’s one I don’t shy away from because the mess is part of the medicine.
The defining wounds for me have always centered around not being seen and the caretaking that became my default. Growing up I learned to bend myself to other people’s needs, to smooth over things, to show up as the fixer, the one who holds space so others don’t have to. That pattern stuck into adulthood: I carried responsibility that wasn’t always mine, I stayed in cycles of people-pleasing, and I kept expecting others to show up the way I did. That left me exhausted, resentful, and quietly aching with the sense that I wasn’t allowed to take up space or ask for what I needed.
Healing that hasn’t been neat or linear. It’s been a weird, beautiful collage of practices and moments that gradually rewired the way I move through life. A few things that actually helped: Saying the truth out loud. Therapy and honest conversations (sometimes explosive, sometimes whispered) taught me how to name what I need and where boundaries belong. Doing the inner work. Shadow journaling, daily writing, and sitting with the parts of me I used to hide gave language to the pain and, slowly, compassion for myself. Ceremony and plant medicine. My plant medicine journeys, including an ayahuasca experience in Peru and other careful, intentional work, opened up layers of grief and stuck patterns in a way that felt visceral and catalytic. Those experiences didn’t “fix” me, but they offered tenderness and radical perspective that I still carry with me. Community and creative practice. Photography, retreats, and the people who’ve held me, friends, mentors, chosen family, taught me how to be held instead of always holding. Creating spaces where other people can be themselves reminded me I could sit in my own life and not just orchestrate everyone else’s. Small daily rituals. Slower mornings, saying no, protecting time with my kids, and little acts of tenderness toward myself added up into real, steady change.
The funny, honest thing is that my wounds became a kind of map for my work. Because I spent so long learning how to hold space and not feel seen, I built a practice where I can give people permission to show up messy and real. Wild Prairie Photography, The Wild Presence Project, Creatrix Catalyst, they’re all different doors into the same work: making room for people to be visible, to feel safe, and to take up space without apology.
If I had to wrap it up: the wound was believing I wasn’t allowed to be loud or needy or complicated. The healing has been learning that my needs matter, my voice matters, and that real connection grows when we stop pretending we’ve got it all together. If anything in my story resonates with you, hit me up, I’d love to hear yours.
Sure, so let’s go deeper into your values and how you think. What would your closest friends say really matters to you?
I think my closest friends would say that what really matters to me is connection, in all its shapes. The connection I have with my kids, the way I show up for the people I love, the care I put into my work, even the way I notice the small details in everyday life. They’d probably also say I care deeply about honesty and growth. I’m not afraid to sit in the messy parts of life, to ask hard questions, or to have the kind of conversations that go beneath the surface.
They’d tell you I want people to feel seen and safe when they’re with me. Whether that’s in front of my camera, sitting across from me over coffee, or sharing space at a retreat, I want people to walk away knowing they didn’t have to perform or pretend. That’s the heartbeat of everything I do.
And if you asked them on a lighter note, they’d probably laugh and say I care a little too much about good road trips, golden light, and finding beauty in places most people overlook.
Okay, we’ve made it essentially to the end. One last question before you go. What false labels are you still carrying?
The false labels I’m still carrying are the ones that tell me I’m “too much” and, somehow at the same time, “not enough.” Too emotional, too sensitive, too complicated. Not professional enough, not polished enough, not successful enough. Those words aren’t mine, but they’ve lived in the background of my life for a long time, shaping the way I’ve second-guessed myself or shrunk down to fit someone else’s expectations.
What I’ve been learning, and honestly, still practicing, is that those labels are illusions. They come from other people’s comfort zones, not from my truth. The older I get, the more I realize I don’t want to carry them forward. My work, my art, and my relationships thrive on the very things I used to think were “too much”: my sensitivity, my honesty, my way of seeing the world differently.
That doesn’t mean the labels don’t still pop up in my head. They do. But now, instead of wearing them like heavy coats, I can recognize them for what they are, leftovers from other people’s projections, and set them down. And every time I choose to do that, I make more space for the truer labels: creative, resilient, loving, intentional, and worthy just as I am.
Contact Info:
- Website: https://www.wildprairiephotography.com
- Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/wild_prairie_photography
- Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/wildprairiephotographyllc
Image Credits
Wild Prairie Photography
