You bring the old story. We bring the lantern.
Henri's Mission
I’m Cheyenne Illeana — a fairy-tale girl, a creator, and the happiest soul in the Pantry now that you’re here.
From childhood onward, I felt like I didn’t belong anywhere. Even when I tried my hardest and received loving attention, I couldn’t accept being truly seen or heard by another. I carried generational wounds around worthiness and the right to exist — I was never enough.
If someone were to see me for who I was, not for what I did, it would confirm that I was worthy. So I hid my real self.
Because of abandonment and rejection fears, I walked through life wearing a mask — hoping people would like me, hoping I’d be allowed to belong somewhere. And whenever someone didn’t like me enough, or criticism found its way to me, I abandoned myself even further. Over time, I shapeshifted into whatever others needed me to be.
I became dependent on other people’s approval and emotional safety.
Always alert (read: survival mode level 10), always searching for safety outside myself. Until it broke everything apart. And thank goodness it did.
At twenty-five, after years of pretending and fighting and freezing, I burned out completely. I found myself at a crossroads with no signposts — no passersby, no landmarks, just silence.
You may belong here, if you wish
On an especially difficult day in that empty space, I drew an unexpected companion on my chalkboard Pantry door: Henri. A headstrong little mole, inspired by Beatrix Potter’s Peter Rabbit, the masterful art of Charlie Mackesy, and Chris Dunn’s illustrations of The Wind in the Willows.
Henri isn’t a childish doodle to me; the little girl inside me found in him a safe place to come home to. A companion who was always near… someone to belong to. Someone who never judged her.
He showed me that, even in darkness, light always returns.
“For even in chaos, both necessary and needless, there is a magic that carries us through,” he promised me.
He taught me to listen to the screaming silence and follow my emotions through my body—simply to witness their movement, to shine a lantern on the pain as an act of self-love and presence.
We did things together that were scary, like setting boundaries and being honest about who we truly are. We even posted this video together. But I was also terrified. Of loss. Perhaps I had never been that afraid. So I would hide Henri again, scribble myself back into my old self. I’d forget him for a while. But each time, he returned stronger.
I discovered all those patterns by diving deep—miles down into the Well. I had become addicted to analyzing my pain; it was the only thing that sometimes helped.
But eventually, you run into a wall. Then you must keep walking toward the light at the end of the tunnel and show what you’ve learned. We had wandered a winding path through cold tunnels, embarking on a pilgrimage of endless patience, the learning child at my hand.
It took a long time to get here, and sometimes I still can’t believe Whimsical Henri is real or visible. I am still afraid. But here we are.
“Whimsical Henri” was born from my need for a safe place to learn to hold myself, instead of leaving it to someone else—to our warm corner, where a shimmering glow transforms inner pain into wisdom. That place holds magic: the inner child.
Whimsical Henri helps you discover your self-worth, authenticity, and creativity through the magic you already possess: your own body. It gives you the power to create what you feel your life is worth while being fully seen.
And Whimsical Henri begins with you. If you too long to feel the wind on your face again as you wander “there and back,” fall, or crawl, we invite you to join us. We’ll bring the lantern.
You are not only very welcome—you may belong here, if you wish.
We let go and tried with all our might to hold on at the same time. We each had to “die” many times, but in the end, we walked into the light alive, realizing that we had been worthy from the very start. It was that simple.
And we didn’t just arrive anywhere. We came to the Pantry. There lay wisdom, sometimes no bigger than a button, waiting for us. In countless drawers, I found unique knowledge about myself. The little girl played with colors, spoke to the birds, and collapsed laughing among the wildflowers, finally falling asleep.
The Well symbolizes the deep dive into your body and childhood pain—the dark tunnel you must cross. The Pantry represents the womb of our freedom, our childlike imagination, and the library where all truths wait to be unpacked. And Henri is the warm little voice with a lantern in his paws, ready to simply be there.
