Today we’d like to introduce you to Adela Hittell.
Hi Adela, can you start by introducing yourself? We’d love to learn more about how you got to where you are today?
I was five when war reached our street in central Bosnia. I was held in a neighbor’s home, then spent the next years surviving. In 1994 I lost family in a massacre near Vitez. In 1997, I arrived in the United States with a suitcase and a nervous system still on fire— but grateful to be alive because through my whole journey strangers had decided I was worth the effort.
For the next decade I built a life—wife, mom, maker—and learned that “home” is something you build where your feet are. I learned to play in the soil that God gifted me in my own backyard building my own small place of heaven. I worked with my hands and my eye (cosmetology, fashion design, photography, film) expressing what I had no words to explain or even understanding what I was expressing. Creativity became the tool I could afford: one stitch, one frame, one conversation at a time. Raising my family wasn’t a gap on a résumé; it was training—systems, patience, follow-through, showing up when no one is watching. Now, I know what is required to have a strong foundation starting from within.
Out of that discipline came Project Human Inc. (PHInc.), a peer-to-peer, art-driven nonprofit focused on practical mental and emotional health. We’re not clinicians—we’re neighbors who refuse to let people navigate alone. We build simple tools and brave rooms: Monthly Community Conversations, free micro-guides, creative workshops, The Artist Within podcast, and a multi-year documentary project called Define the Narrative.
The documentary tracks my need to understand and navigate what it means to be human. With real people in my city over years committing to be part of the process and share their passions— shows how community, language, and tiny actions can move a life.
In 2026 we’re finishing that arc with Runway to Resilience, a Mother’s Day weekend fashion-and-art fundraiser that honors mothers and the humans who protect life—military, veterans, first responders, nurses, teachers, caregivers. It’s not just a show; it’s an ending we’re writing together and an on-ramp to year-round access: scholarship seats, community hours, and practical education.
My work is simple and stubborn: human first. I care because people I didn’t know risked everything so I could live, breathe, grow up and make something useful with the life I was gifted. Now I build structures that do the same—bridges between people and resources, between story and action. If my story “sells,” let it sell one thing: every life is worth the work.
Today I am learning and accepting to live with what I now know as dissociative amnesia and CPTSD. With dissociative amnesia I have almost no memory of my life before my twenties, and with CPTSD, I never know when something will or what could trigger a spike in my nervous system.
As long as I am creating, I am living.
We all face challenges, but looking back would you describe it as a relatively smooth road?
Short answer: no, it hasn’t been smooth. It’s been stitched with broken needles, used thread and faith.
I grew up inside a war and carried dissociative amnesia and CPTSD into adulthood without any knowledge. I spent years with personas to fit in based on only what I met and experienced for a short time. I spent years thinking I was crazy for knowing something was wrong but having no way to explain it. That also means I’ve had to rebuild my whole life and an organization while re-learning everything about myself, managing triggers, memory gaps, and a nervous system that doesn’t always listen.
Healing and building at the same time is messy—but it’s also why I insist on small, practical tools. Step by step is all it takes to make it. I don’t romanticize resilience; I practice it.
On the organizational ground, the struggles look very ordinary and very real: raising my son while starting a nonprofit; learning U.S. compliance the hard way (sales tax, registrations, filings); writing contracts so our mission is protected; securing venues and insurance; saying “no” to partnerships that don’t honor humans first; and dealing with volunteer inconsistency while still showing up for the people who do. Fundraising is its own marathon—lots of rejections, some rooms that want the trauma without the truth, and constant decisions about capacity: do we add one more program, or strengthen what we have? Do we push with the trend or stay the course? In the end, human first.
Personally, I had to shift from “guiding” to “leading.” That meant clearer boundaries, cleaner processes, and real accountability—starting with me. It meant letting my decade at home with my family count as training, not a gap: systems, patience, follow-through, showing up when no one is watching. It meant building structures for my own regulation—tiny routines, creative practice, and honest rest—so I don’t burn out doing work I love.
What kept me moving were humans. A mom who messages, “I didn’t give up today.” A volunteer who shows up when it rains. A partner who says, “We’ll cover the scholarship seats.” Those moments remind me why I started: every life is worth the effort. The road isn’t smooth—but it’s real, and we’re walking it together.
As you know, we’re big fans of you and your work. For our readers who might not be as familiar what can you tell them about what you do?
I’m a multidisciplinary creative—film, fashion, photography, hair, makeup, and live experiences—all in service of one thing: human-first. I founded Project Human Inc. to turn my lived experience into practical tools and resilient rooms where all a human has to do is show up. I design programs where art isn’t decoration; it’s the method—short, structured practices, creative directives, and community conversations that humans can use the same day creating instant impact.
I specialize in building systems around creativity: a repeatable arc from story → tool → action. That shows up in our Monthly Community Conversations, C.A.R.E. mini-workshops, and impact-driven events.
I’m known for long-horizon projects like Define the Narrative, a multi-year documentary following my story to resilience with real human conversations in Jacksonville, and for the fashion-meets-healing experience “Runway to Resilience,” where a runway becomes a statement about survival, mothers, and those who protect life.
I also host The Artist Within, spotlighting how creativity supports mental and emotional health.
What I’m most proud of isn’t the glamorous part but the consistency. Everyday I wake up and tell myself “It is done.” Step-by- step it gets done. Creating clear, simple tools; measuring what has changed; making access to the human experience real—connections, scholarship seats, free community hours, co-branded resources partners and more, providing the resources the community needs.
What sets me apart is the combination of trauma-informed design with execution discipline: I don’t chase spectacle; I build outcomes. The work is artful, but it’s also logistical, ethical, and measurable.
If there’s a signature to my practice, it’s this: every life is worth the work—and the work should be clear enough, kind enough, and structured enough that anyone can start today.
How do you think about happiness?
Happiness is a fleeting feeling to be chased. Joy is fulfillment in mere existence. What makes me JOYFUL?
The joy I receive from waking up—from breathing—I am unable to fully capture in words; it simply bursts out of me. The added bonus of joy that overflows my cup—in the best way possible, even to the point of exhaustion—comes through human interaction. A human conversation is food for my soul. To be with, and in the presence of, another living being who breathes and wakes up with me, and to share a moment that inspires, fuels, and shapes our beings—well, that is priceless.
I’ve been on both sides of the coin. I know what death is and what life is—and both can rest in the palm of a human. That’s why I don’t treat breath or connection as ordinary. Every small exchange is proof that we’re still here and still capable of choosing one another. A look that says “I see you,” a boundary that protects dignity, a story offered without shame—these are the moments that turn oxygen into purpose. They’re why I build rooms for conversation, why I stitch art into advocacy, and why I keep showing up. Joy, for me, is the steady practice of honoring life—mine and yours—one human moment at a time.
Pricing:
- https://www.phinc-ing.org/invest-in-change
- We are donation based.
- Anything helps.
Contact Info:
- Website: https://www.phinc-ing.org/
- Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/phinc_newwaytothink/
- Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/projecthumaninc
- LinkedIn: https://www.linkedin.com/company/project-human-inc
- Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/@ProjectHumanIncPHInc
- Other: https://www.phinc-ing.org/sponsorships
