Drawing for sanity, and life as ART.
You don’t have to make something beautiful—just make something.
I used to think being an artist meant showing your work in galleries or having a regular studio practice. Something formal. Intentional. Recognizable to others as capital-A “Art.” But over the years—through loss, motherhood, burnout, and healing—I’ve come to see it differently.
Life IS the art.
I’m not sure exactly when this shift happened. Maybe it was after I lost a close friend in a tragic accident, or maybe it came later, when my ideas of God began to stretch beyond the limits of religion. I no longer believe that the sacred lives only in a church building or a prescribed belief system. These days, I find holiness in the process of living—especially the messy parts. Change itself feels divine. Creating anything out of what’s been lost or broken feels like worship; acknowledging the flow of life itself and the gratitude that I have to be a part of it.
Now, everything I do—from drawing and writing to organizing my closet or helping a coworker feel safe on their first day—feels like an act of devotion to that flow. It’s not about the product. It’s about the presence.
I want to invite you into that idea too. To expand your definition of what counts as art. Not everything you make has to hang on a wall to be meaningful. Art isn’t just something you produce—it’s a way of moving through the world. And sometimes, it looks like cleaning your kitchen when you’d rather give up. Sometimes, it looks like grabbing a pen and scribbling through the static just to stay grounded.
That’s what Drawing for Sanity is about.
The First Time I Needed Drawing to Survive
The first time I truly turned to drawing as a way to survive was after giving birth to my daughter, Penny. I was drowning in postpartum depression. I spent weeks camped out in the same spot on the couch, breastfeeding, half-sleeping, and barely recognizing myself. I didn’t know how to name what I was feeling, let alone what to do about it.
So I started with something small: a Post-it note and a crayon. Five minutes a day. That was all I could manage—and honestly, all I needed.
It wasn’t about making “good” drawings. I wasn’t trying to be creative. I was trying to stay alive, to give shape to feelings that had no words. That tiny window of time became a tether. A quiet promise to myself that things could shift. That I wasn’t gone—I was just in transition.
I didn’t call it Drawing for Sanity then. But that’s exactly what it was.
What Drawing for Sanity Really Means
This practice has stuck with me for more than a decade. It isn’t about skill. It’s about release. Drawing in this way isn’t a performance, and it doesn’t need an audience. It’s a somatic, emotional, intuitive tool for grounding.
When I sit down with a pen and let the marks come through, something shifts. The noise in my mind gets quieter. The tension in my body loosens. I don’t always know what I’m feeling until it shows up on the page—through color, shape, movement, rhythm.
When paired with music, it becomes almost meditative. A moving prayer. A nervous system reset. A return to myself.
Try This: Draw Your Inner Weather
You don’t need to be in the mood. You don’t need expensive materials. You don’t even need a plan.
Just ask yourself one question:
What’s the weather lookin like inside me right now? What’s here?
Then draw that.
It might be tangled lines, tight spirals, wide open loops, jagged marks, or scattered dots. It doesn’t need to “look like” anything. It just needs to be honest.
If you have two minutes, try drawing one continuous line that captures your current energy. No lifting your pen—just move.
If you have ten minutes, draw your inner weather now, then draw what you wish it felt like. Sit with both versions. Let your body speak to you through shape.
For the Ones Who Feel Overwhelmed
This course is for anyone who feels overwhelmed and disconnected from themselves. Especially those working stressful jobs, caregiving for others, or trying to show up in a world that never seems to slow down.
You don’t need to identify as an artist. You don’t need to be in a creative season. You just need to want a way back to yourself—a soft place to land.
Drawing for Sanity is something I’m building not just for you, but for us. It’s the tool I reach for again and again when the world feels too loud and my nervous system is frayed. It helps me come home to myself, and I want to share it in a way that’s accessible and real.
Also—because I believe in transparency—it’s important for me to say that any purchase of the course or a paid Substack subscription directly supports me paying down big student loan debts and moving my family toward a more stable financial place. This offering is creative, yes. It’s spiritual. It’s healing. But it’s also survival.
You’re Already Making Art
This week, reorganizing my space was art.
Writing curriculum for our new hire training program? Also art.
Living with care, choosing gentleness, making space for yourself—that’s art too.
Even when it feels like a mess. Especially then! Because art is messy, it is the definition of the creative process.
So if you’re not sure where to begin, start here.
With your breath. With a crayon. With whatever’s nearby.
With five minutes of permission to be a little messy and a little more whole.
Your life is already a masterpiece.
xoxo, Molly
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