It’s wild to think about how my sketchbook journey began—and how much it’s transformed my life over the past nine years.
Nine years ago, I was a brand-new mom navigating the intense waves of postpartum anxiety after returning to teaching full-time. Every morning felt like I was leaving a piece of my heart behind at daycare. I knew deep down that I needed to find a spark of joy to carry me through this difficult new normal, but I wasn’t sure where to begin.
One day, I happened to have an extra sketchbook left over from my classroom. Around the same time, I discovered the artist Jennifer Orkin Lewis ( @augustwren on IG) and her daily painting practice. Seeing her simple yet joyful approach to daily creativity felt like someone had given me permission to try something I had never even considered before: actually painting in a sketchbook. Up until that point, I had always thought of sketchbooks as a place just for pencil drawings, quick notes, or rough ideas—not finished paintings. I loveddd painting but the idea of setting up a canvas, and space in a studio often got in the way of me actually sitting down to do it. So I grabbed whatever student quality watercolors I had lying around, and started to use those to paint with.
That inspiration was all I needed. I made a small but powerful promise to myself: I would draw or paint for just 20 minutes a day. No expectations. No pressure for perfection. Just a simple daily act of creativity that was just for me. Even when I wasn't inspired or had no idea what to make- I just started putting pen to paper, brush to paper, anything to paper. As cheesy as it sounds, to quote one of my favorite children's books, The Dot, but I just "made a mark" and then let it take me somewhere.
Little by little, my sketchbook became my lifeline.
Instead of spending my lunch breaks crying over photos of my son on my phone, I poured all my feelings into my sketchbook pages. I would start to really pay attention to things in my surroundings that inspired me, and brought me joy and would make a mental note "Oh I can't wait to draw or paint that later". I started being fully present by drawing or painting things in my surroundings more often, like the picture above of my husband sleeping with my son (at the time our baby had an ear infection and so snuggles with dad to the rescue). My heart was so full in that moment that I thought, "You know what, I'm going to sketch them to savor this moment".
I started carrying simple supplies everywhere—just a few pens, a travel watercolor set, or even a couple markers—so that whenever I found a pocket of time (10 minutes during my prep period, 15 minutes while waiting at the doctor’s office), I could make something. I also started to look forward to small pockets of time in my day where I knew I could come back to working something that I had started in my sketchbook. I was excited to create art again.
Slowly, quietly, I began to heal. I started to recognize myself again—not just as a mother or a teacher, but as an artist. I realized I could have space for all of these things in my new normal, I just had to prioritize them. Instead of picking up my phone and consuming garbage on the internet, I chose to pick up my sketchbook and create something instead. And when I started to create more and more, content and calm came back into my life.
My sketchbook didn’t just give me a safe space to process my emotions—it rebuilt my confidence as a creative person. It inspired new art lessons for my students, opened the door to commissions and workshops, and eventually led to launching my Patreon community and, later, our brand Quell. It even shaped the way I parent my own kids, modeling a life where making art isn’t just something you do in a class—it’s part of everyday life.
Now, one of the greatest joys of my journey is seeing my children pick up their own sketchbooks, feeling the same pride and joy in creating that once helped heal me. Watching their little hands draw, paint, and dream reminds me why I started this in the first place—and why I’ll never stop.
Van Gogh once said, “Art is to console those who are broken by life.”
For me, it truly did—and now it’s my passion to help light that creative spark for others too.
Thank you for being part of my ever-evolving artistic journey. Your encouragement, your presence, and your shared love for creativity mean the world to me.
Here's to many more pages ahead.❤️
