We did. Well, we tried to at least.
I still remember the first time I tried to draw. It was a total disaster. I was terrible. The blank page felt like a giant wall, staring me down and judging me before I even picked up a pencil. No matter how hard I tried, nothing I drew looked anything like what I imagined in my head. Every line felt wrong, every shape was off, and I was paralyzed—almost scared to make the first mark.
But somewhere along the way, something shifted. I started doodling stick figures. Simple. Imperfect. But they made me laugh. They weren’t “art” in the traditional sense, but that didn’t matter. The more I drew, the more I realized that I didn’t need to create something perfect or polished—I just needed to create. That’s when I discovered cartooning.
It didn’t take long for cartooning to become more than just a hobby. When my dear friend and mentor was first diagnosed with cancer, she struggled to express the weight of her emotions. So, we reconnected in a way that felt natural—through those same stick figures and simple cartoons. Drawing became a source of lightness and distraction during a tough time. It allowed us both to laugh, share, and find comfort in something that didn’t take itself too seriously.
We began drawing little comics of absurd characters and funny scenarios. It wasn’t about creating a masterpiece—it was about being together, laughing through the pain, and using art to process emotions without needing to put them into words. It became our therapy, and in the process, it helped us both heal. What once seemed like an intimidating, blank page transformed into a tool for laughter and connection. It felt ridiculous, in the best way possible. Who laughs at cancer?
It’s amazing how something as simple as a drawing can become a source of healing. What started as a frustrating, awkward attempt at art turned into a lifeline—a reminder that creativity doesn’t have to be perfect to be powerful. And that’s a lesson I carry with me every day.
