Our Story

Hi, I’m Scott, founder of Comfort Cards.

As a young boy I suffered from anxiety. I was overweight, wore glasses, and was bullied, which made me worry constantly about what people thought of me. I built a mask of false confidence to hide the pain I didn’t yet know how to face.

Years later, as an adult, I sat in a doctor’s office expecting routine blood test results for something as simple as hives. Instead, I was hit with words like Lymphoma, Leukemia, and Myeloma. I didn’t have cancer, not yet, but at 28, I was diagnosed with a precursor condition to Myeloma, a rare and incurable blood cancer typically found in people over 60. My odds of progression were about 1 in 100 each year. That may not sound like much, but when you’re 28, you start doing the maths. You wonder if you’ll ever grow old.

At the time, my life was just beginning. I had already bought an engagement ring, imagining a future full of joy and family. That vision was suddenly blurred by fear. Still, engagement came. Then marriage. Then the birth of our baby boy.

That’s when the existential dread truly hit. Now I had someone beyond myself to live for. My son. Would I be around to raise him? Would the disease progress next year? The fear became overwhelming.

I turned to therapy. I read every book I could on psychology, philosophy, and self-help. I listened to podcasts, looking for anything that might help me feel in control again, anything that could quiet the storm inside.

And somewhere in the middle of that scramble, Comfort Cards was born.

It began as handwritten notes, fragments of wisdom from ancient texts, powerful lessons from therapy sessions, and scribbles in my journal. Little reminders for myself to hold onto when the anxiety got too loud. Over time, I worked alongside psychologists to help shape some of these cards, weaving together personal experience and professional insight.

But then I had another thought: what if I don’t live long enough to pass all this on to my son? What if he grows up without hearing everything I’ve learned about being human; about anxiety, purpose, kindness, connection, love, parenting… life?

Then the pandemic came. The world was cracked wide open, and people everywhere were struggling with fear, uncertainty, and isolation. What started as private notes for me and my son began resonating with others too. Strangers. Friends. Parents. People just trying to get through.

Comfort Cards became more than scribbles. They became a message from the wounded soul of a bullied little boy, trying to make sense of the world, to his son and to anyone else who needed to hear it.