It's REALLY hard to write about yourself without sounding creepy .... I didn't start drawing until 2012, at the ripe old-ish age of 37. As a kid, drawing was foreign to me and didn't make any sense. It was difficult and dissatisfying and generally unpleasant, so I didn't do it. Glitter was okay, but not drawing. I was a reader and a writer until 2007 when my spark for writing left me. Then I was just a reader.
Tending toward the anxious side, I don't relax well. I clean, putter about, make soap or bread or scarves or anything else to keep my hands busy.
In 2012 I hit a patch of depression and the despondency was a new thing for me. One day I picked up a leftover canvas from a craft session with the kids and started doodling with a sharpie. It was calming and soothing and surprising. After that, I doodled in my journal a bit, delighted at the fact that curved lines could be connected so effortlessly into appealing patterns. On November 21, 2012 my husband bought me a sketchbook and a Slicci pen and encouraged me to pursue drawing more seriously. This encouragement set me on the path I'm on today. None of this would have happened without his support, and my gratitude knows no bounds.
The rest is, as they say, history. I draw constantly. I don't ever stop drawing or planning to draw or looking at pictures that I want to draw or wishing I had more time to draw. It's a refuge for me, a balm, and a necessity.