Rediscovering the Joy of Creating
Lately, I’ve been finding my way back to something I thought I’d outgrown — the kind of quiet joy that comes from creating just because it feels good. When I sit down with a pencil and paper, the world softens. There’s no end goal, no screen, no need to be perfect — just the feeling of being absorbed in something simple and real. It reminds me of being a kid again, when imagination came easier than words and time seemed to stretch forever.
Meeting My Inner Child Again
Somewhere along the way, I think I forgot what it felt like to create without a reason. As an adult, everything starts to revolve around purpose — deadlines, goals, outcomes. But lately, I’ve been giving myself permission to draw badly, to doodle for no reason, to just let my hands move without judging the result. It’s funny how something so small can feel so freeing. In those quiet moments, I can almost hear my younger self again — curious, playful, and unbothered by perfection. It’s like we’re finally spending time together after years apart.
Feeling Calm from the Inside Out
There’s something healing about slowing down enough to notice how your body feels when your mind is quiet. When I draw, my breathing evens out without me trying. My shoulders drop. The tension that usually hums under my skin just… disappears. It’s as if my body recognizes the difference between being busy and being at peace. Creating has become a way to remind myself what calm actually feels like — not just mentally, but physically too.
A Surprising Connection
For years, I struggled with eczema, and I didn’t always realize how much stress made it worse. The tension I carried in my shoulders, the constant mental to-do list, the nights I couldn’t sleep — all of it seemed to ripple through my skin. But something has shifted recently. Spending time with pencil and paper, fully absorbed in creation, has given my body a break it didn’t know it needed. My flare-ups have calmed, my skin feels more at ease, and I’m beginning to see how deeply our minds and bodies are connected. It’s not magic, just the quiet power of giving yourself space to breathe, to play, and to be.
The Importance of Tactile, Physical Art
For me, it’s not the same on a screen. Drawing on an iPad never feels quite right — the smooth glass and digital brush lack the weight and texture that make creating feel real. There’s something grounding about holding a pencil, feeling it drag across paper, the little smudges that remind you you’re human. Those small, physical sensations pull me into the moment and make it impossible to stay caught up in everything else. It’s a simple act, but it’s one of the few ways I can truly disconnect, and in that disconnection, my mind finds rest and my body follows.
A Gentle Invitation
Art therapy doesn’t have to be structured or perfect. It doesn’t require fancy tools or years of experience. It just requires a little time and the willingness to show up for yourself. Giving your mind space to play, explore, and breathe isn’t just relaxing — it can be transformative. For me, it has helped me reconnect with my inner child, lower my stress, and even calm my skin in ways I didn’t think were possible. Maybe the same will happen for you.
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