How The Creativity Prescription Came to Be

It began in burnout—a deep, soul-weary kind of exhaustion—and in the quiet ache for more joy.

We had always been makers. Lifelong crafters. Lovers of beauty. But somewhere along the way, we set those parts of ourselves aside in the name of being sensible. Serious adults with serious careers. We followed the map laid out for us: get the grades, get into the school, get into medical school, match into residency, become a doctor. We were told, Then you will have arrived. Then you will be happy.

But when we arrived, it wasn’t at joy. It was at depletion—misaligned careers in an unsustainable, fractured system. We were tired. Morally injured. And the “solutions” on offer—be more efficient, be more resilient, attend another lecture on wellness—rang hollow.

To admit we were miserable felt taboo. So we searched quietly for something—anything—that could soften the daily anxiety and the grayness that had become normal. We tried everything we were “supposed” to try: self-help books, therapy, working more, working less. None of it worked.

Then, almost shyly, we returned to the things that once lit us up as children—art and crafting. We had always been dabblers, never specialists. We didn’t know that the simple act of dabbling would be the lifeline. That creativity itself would be the medicine we’d been missing.

At first, it was only daydreaming. Browsing Pinterest, watching others create. But seeing beauty made by human hands stirred something deep in us. We didn’t yet know how to start, only that we wanted to. We wanted to make. To shape. To bring something lovely into being. That spark was enough. It was a direction. And it was the beginning.

At first, it was slow—achingly slow. We gathered our little starter kit: a few bottles of craft paint, some paper, a couple of brushes. And then… they sat. We’d take them out, only to feel that wave of overwhelm at the thought of actually putting paint to paper. So we didn’t.

Until one day, we asked ourselves, what if we just played? Just swiped color across the page, no rules, no plan—just to see what would happen. It was basically finger painting, and honestly, it felt freeing. That tiny act took the pressure off.

We stayed in that space for a while, experimenting, dabbling, and slowly adding new tools and mediums to the mix. The more we explored, the more our creative energy woke up.

If this feels familiar, we’d love for you to join us here at The Creativity Prescription—where we’re finding our way back to creativity, together.