Journaling and Sketchbooks as a Mental Health Tool

Journaling and Sketchbooks as a Mental Health Tool

If you’d told me years ago that a blank page—one of the simplest, most ordinary objects in the world—would become one of the most powerful tools in my mental health toolbox, I might’ve laughed.

Back then, the blank page was more of a threat. It stared back at me with that smug whiteness, daring me to make something as “good” as yesterday.

I’d sit at my drawing desk, coffee cooling by the minute, feeling the pressure to be creative on command.

But over time, journaling and sketchbooks stopped being battlegrounds.

They shifted into something entirely different: a quiet refuge, a place I could process stress, unwind, think clearly, and reconnect with myself.

“Journaling helps you establish order when your world feels like it’s in chaos. It helps you get to know yourself by revealing your innermost fears, thoughts, and feelings.” – University of Rochester Medical Center 

Not everything I draw or write ends up in a portfolio, a website, or a client presentation—nor should it. Some pages exist solely to keep me grounded and healthy.

Today, my sketchbooks are filled with messy doodles, tiny comics, handwritten rants, epiphanies, to-do lists, gratitude notes, half-formed ideas, and the occasional coffee stain.

And honestly? That’s exactly the way I like it.

In this post, I want to break down how journaling and sketchbooks have become a powerful mental health tool for me as an artist—and how they can become one for you too.

The Mental Weight Artists Carry

If you’re an illustrator or cartoonist, you already know the unspoken truth: our minds rarely turn off. We’re always observing, analyzing, imagining, and interpreting.

That constant creative hum is both a gift and a burden.

Deadlines, self-doubt, imposter syndrome, financial stress, creative burnout—there’s a reason so many artists walk around with tight shoulders and frazzled nervous systems.

We process the world intensely, often emotionally, and sometimes alone.

For me, journaling and sketching became the pressure valve. Instead of bottling everything up until it exploded, I learned to spill it onto paper.

The moment I started using my sketchbook as a place to experience rather than perform, everything changed. My mental health improved. My creative output became more authentic.

And I finally had a tool that let me sort out the chaos between my ears.

It wasn’t about making good drawings. It was about making honest ones.

Why a Sketchbook Works (Even When You Think You’re “Not Good at It”)

One of the biggest mental hurdles I had to cross was accepting that my sketchbook didn’t have to look impressive. No one was grading it.

No one was scrolling past it on Instagram. No one was “liking” or “not liking” it. It was just me—showing up however I happened to be that day.

Here's why sketchbooks are a powerful mental health tool:

1. They’re private.

You can be messy, emotional, or imperfect without fear of judgment.

2. They blend words and images.

Sometimes words fail me. Sometimes I don’t want words. Sketching fills the gap.

3. They make emotions physical.

Drawing feels like externalizing tension. It’s controlled expression.

4. They encourage presence.

When I’m sketching, I’m not spiraling about tomorrow’s deadline or yesterday’s mistakes. I’m here—right now—pencil on paper.

5. They reveal patterns.

Flipping back through a few weeks of pages often shows me what’s really bothering me… or what’s inspiring me.

Your sketchbook doesn’t have to be good to be healing. It just has to be yours.

The Difference Between Journaling and Sketching

I used to think journaling was for writers and sketchbooks were for artists.

Then I realized the combination of both unlocked something powerful.

Journaling clears the fog.

On stressful days, my handwriting looks like a frantic scribble. But even that helps. Putting words down helps me decode what’s bothering me.

Sketching calms the nervous system.

Even a simple repeating pattern—a page of circles, lines, or shapes—slows down my breathing and shifts me back into my body.

Together, they create emotional clarity.

I might spend three paragraphs journaling about how overwhelmed I feel… and then sketch a tiny cartoon that captures the same feeling in a single, humorous doodle.

Sometimes the drawing expresses what the writing can’t—or vice versa.

You don’t have to choose between them. Let them overlap. Let them mix. Let them support each other.

My Personal Routine (And How It Keeps Me Grounded)

People often assume my journaling routine is a structured, sacred ritual performed at dawn with the sun beaming through the blinds like an inspirational Instagram reel.

It’s not.

Some days I journal for ten minutes before bed.

Some days I fill four pages in the morning because my mind won’t shut up. Some days I only have the energy to draw a square on a page and write, “Today was… weird.”

But I do have a loose routine that keeps me consistent:

1. The Morning Brain Dump

Before I open email or tackle client work, I spill everything that’s rattling around in my head. No editing. No thinking. Just dumping. This clears space so I can focus.

2. Midday Micro Sketches

When I get stuck or frustrated at my desk, I grab my sketchbook and doodle tiny expressive faces, poses, or random shapes. It resets my creativity like a hard reboot.

3. Evening Reflection

At night, I write two quick things:

• something that went well

• something I want to improve tomorrow

It’s incredibly grounding and keeps me from mentally spiraling before bed.

4. Weekly Flip-Through

Every week or two, I flip back through recent pages. Sometimes I discover insights—like, “Wow, I complained about the same thing for five days straight,” or, “Hey, I was really inspired last week.”

This practice has helped me understand myself better than almost anything else.

The Science Behind This Stuff (In Plain English)

Journaling reduces stress.

Studies show it lowers cortisol, helping your brain offload emotional clutter.

Drawing activates calm-focused brain states.

Sketching engages the parasympathetic nervous system (the “rest and digest” mode).

Creativity improves emotional regulation.

Externalizing feelings through art improves mood and increases resilience.

Repetition—like hatching or pattern drawing—grounds the mind.

This is similar to meditation and even helps with anxiety.

In other words: this stuff works on a scientific level, not just an emotional one.

Breaking the Myth of the “Perfect Artist Sketchbook”

Let me say something important—and if no one has ever told you this, let me be the first:

Your sketchbook is not a museum. It’s a workshop.

I used to obsess over sketchbook aesthetics. I’d throw away pages that looked bad. I’d rewrite journal entries so they appeared “cleaner.”

(Yes, really.) I treated my sketchbook like a public gallery even though no one ever saw it.

Eventually, I realized how much harm that mentality was doing. It made me afraid to be imperfect, which is exactly what a sketchbook is for.

Today, my sketchbooks have:

• crossed-out words

• half-erased doodles

• random grocery lists

• emotional vents

• ideas I’ll never use

• diagrams of future projects

• tiny ugly doodles I love anyway

That messy authenticity is what makes the sketchbook a powerful mental health tool. It’s not about beauty—it’s about honesty.

How Sketchbook Journaling Helps with Burnout

Burnout doesn’t happen all at once. At least for me, it creeps in slowly. A little exhaustion here. A bit of creative pressure there. A few too many deadlines. A few too few boundaries.

READ: How to Avoid Burnout in a Creative Career

Sketch booking has become my early warning system.

When I flip through pages and see:

• harsher handwriting

• more chaotic sketches

• a lack of humor

• repeated notes like “I’m tired” or “I need a break”

…it’s a sign I’m slipping toward burnout. Catching that early has saved me more than once.

Sketchbooks remind me what I value. They remind me what sparks joy.

They remind me why I love making art. Even in burnout seasons, they help me find my way back.

Turning the Sketchbook into a Self-Therapy Practice

I’m not a therapist—but I am an advocate for creative self-care. Over the years, I’ve found some sketchbook exercises that genuinely help me process emotions and stay centered.

Feel free to try any of these:

1. The 5-Minute Emotion Sketch

Pick how you feel and draw it as a shape or cartoon character. Fast. No thinking.

2. Stream-of-Consciousness Doodle Page

Fill a whole page without lifting your pen. Whatever comes out is allowed.

3. One Page of Gratitude

Sketch or write five small things that made the day easier or brighter.

4. The Stress Scribble

Scribble out the stress. Literally. Then draw over it or around it to “contain” or transform it.

5. Dialogue with Yourself

Write a short two-panel comic where you talk to your stressed-out self.(These are oddly comforting—and often hilarious.)

6. The “What I Really Need” Page

Draw or list what your body and mind are craving: rest, solitude, inspiration, a walk, fun, etc.

These pages are often raw, but they’re incredibly clarifying.

How This Practice Makes Me a Better Artist

This isn’t just about mental health (though that’s huge). This practice has genuinely made me a stronger illustrator, storyteller, and creative professional.

My ideas are clearer.

Journaling breaks mental clutter.

My imagination is sharper.

Sketching without judgment allows weird ideas to surface.

My style evolves naturally.

A no-pressure sketchbook lets experimentation thrive.

My deadlines feel less overwhelming.

I understand my emotions better and react with more clarity.

My resilience is stronger.

When life gets chaotic, the sketchbook becomes my anchor.

It’s not an exaggeration to say that sketch booking has kept me sane through some of my busiest, most stressful seasons.

If You Want to Start: My Simple Advice

You don’t need the perfect sketchbook. Or fancy pens. Or a ritualized routine. You just need a single page and a moment of honesty.

Here’s what I wish someone had told me:

• Start messy.

• Let the pages be ugly.

• Don’t show them to anyone unless you genuinely want to.

• Let drawing and writing overlap however they naturally do.

• Don’t measure the value of the page by how “good” it looks.

• Keep going, even on the days when you only fill one tiny corner.

• Let the sketchbook become a private friend, not a performance.

This practice isn’t about perfection—it’s about mental clarity, emotional refuge, and creative freedom.

Conclusion: The Page That Still Saves Me

Even now, after decades of drawing for clients, studios, publishers, and myself, I still turn to my sketchbook first when life gets heavy. The blank page doesn’t intimidate me anymore; it welcomes me. It listens.

It absorbs the messiness of life like no digital device ever could.

Journaling and sketching have become one of my most reliable mental health tools.

They reconnect me with my purpose, help me process the chaos of modern life, sharpen my creativity, and keep me rooted in who I am—not who I’m expected to be.

If your mind feels like a crowded room… if your creativity feels stuck… if your emotions feel tangled… pick up a pen and open a page. You don’t need a plan. You just need a moment.

Let the page hold what you’re tired of carrying alone.

Your sketchbook might end up saving you too.