For 20 years I've allowed my talents for drawing to atrophy. This is not for a want or desire to draw. No. In fact that desire has burned deep within me for a long time. But for whatever reason I lost the joy I once had for quietly sitting for hours with nothing but myself, a pencil, and the sketch pad. I have a dozen theories as to why this is, all of them tragic, but that's not the point of this discussion.

For the last year I've been trying to rekindle this joy. It's hard to explain what it feels like for me. Art, drawing specifically, was so much a part of who I was as a child and young adult, that one could not think of me without associating me with that habit. I drew on everything, all the time. I had terrible grades in school because I'd spend the class time sketching away on the hand-outs, paying no attention to the teacher or the lesson. I'd "watch" TV with a sketchbook in my lap, never knowing what actually transpired on the screen for my attention was on the page.

And then one day I didn't like it anymore. It felt like work. I was good, but not so good I could make a living with this talent I'd spent my life pursuing. I was going to be a comic book artist, a graphic designer, a concept artist for movies, etc, etc. And then nothing.

After 20 years, however, I can feel the loss. Looking at other artists my age who were not as skilled as I was in my youth are now making a living doing what they love with a skillset far surpassing anything I could have dreamed of back then. Am I jealous? Not in the way you're thinking. I do not wish to make my living as an artist (at least not that kind of artist). But I do want to love drawing again. I want to desire sitting at a table with nothing but a pencil and sketch pad instead of with the TV on, or a phone in my hand.

So what have I done about it? Over a year ago I started seeing a therapist. We've worked on lots of things, and one of those things is what I've described above. If nothing else, I enjoy the accountability of a therapist. I tell him what my goals are between then and our next meeting, and that little piece of homework can sometimes be enough to push me into what I need to do but am sometimes too afraid to pursue.

The image above is from this weekend's homework. I started taking drawing lessons online, specifically for human anatomy. So far, the joy has yet to return. It still feels like work. Hard work. Frustrating work. But just like going to the gym and working out, it feels so much better when I'm finished. When I look back at the work I've done, I smile. It's not perfect and I have miles and miles to go, but it feels good to know I inched forward today.

With enough time, I hope to form a habit of drawing. And who knows, maybe I'll learn to love it. God, I hope I love it.