Out of Your Head, Onto the Page: 5 Therapeutic Art Prompts for Anxious Moms
Some days, you’re a mom-lead character in a musical, flipping pancakes with a soundtrack of laughter.
Other days, you could give a caffeine addict a run for their money, racing through a list of chores as if your very existence depends on finishing them all before breakfast. And then there are the days when you feel snug in a corset, stuck between the oppressive weight of expectations and the insatiable demand of tiny humans who need you to be everything - and how is that even remotely fair?
I let out a chuckle to mask the ache, because let’s be honest: if I didn’t laugh, I’d probably dissolve into a puddle of tears right in the middle of snack negotiations. The truth is, the mom pressure cooker is real, with the steam hissing away while your heart races.
Is your mom-brain currently hosting a 17-tab clusterf*ck marathon?
School spirit day tomorrow
That one sock you could swear you just folded, where the heck did it go?
Snack time? Oh, again?
Why is that text message making you question everything?
Full-body overwhelm before the coffee has even kicked in?
Yet, here you are. Still standing. Still looking for that quick fix from blog posts like this one, searching for hope among the chaotic piles of laundry and emotional rollercoasters. Juggling more than a circus performer, you grasp desperately for balance when it feels like a precarious display on the edge of a cliff.
So you scroll. We all scroll. (A round of applause for self-awareness: Hi, it’s me. I’m the problem, it’s me.) Not because you’ve checked out, not because you don’t care - but because facing yourself in a moment of stillness can be as daunting as tackling the laundry mountain looming over your head.
When your nervous system is waving the white flag, grabbing your phone to escape those feelings - however fleeting - becomes an enticing option. Trust me, I get it.
Wait - does that mean scrolling is bad?
Nope. It’s not black-and-white. Scrolling can help. And it can hinder.
The trick is asking yourself:
Is this helping me feel more connected or more detached?
Am I using this to soothe… or to avoid?
Do I feel better or worse after?
When it’s helping - great.
When it’s not? That’s when self-expression can become the life raft.
How I got here (on the bathroom floor, with markers)
A little over a year ago, I came back to art journaling.
Not because I had time - but because I didn’t.
My husband had just started a camp job. I had two tiny humans.
And most nights, I had two choices:
Scroll until my eyeballs fell out, or
Draw weird shapes on scrap paper and hope my nervous system got the memo.
Spoiler: Sometimes I still scrolled. But the nights I made even five minutes for art? I slept better. I snapped less. I didn’t lose my mind when someone asked for a third bedtime snack.
Art became the place I could put it all. So now, I want to give that to you.
Five Therapeutic Art Exercises for Moms Who Spend Too Much Time In Their Heads
These aren’t about making pretty things. They’re about making space.
Two are quick enough to do with a toddler in your lap.
One meets you right in the mess.
Two go a little deeper, for the nights you feel a flicker of capacity.
Let’s get it out of your head and onto the page - where it might stop yelling at you for five blessed minutes.
1. The Scribble Scream (1-minute nervous system reset)
Time: One minute
You’ll need: Just paper and something to write with (these are my fave)
Try it when: You feel like you might snap - or you already did and want a reset.
How to: Set a timer for one minute. Scribble. No shapes, no plans, no perfection.
Just ragey toddler energy on the page.
Bonus points for a dramatic sigh or primal growl.
Why it helps: This is what nervous system regulation looks like when you don’t have time to meditate in a meadow. It’s fast. It’s messy. And it works.
2. Color Your Capacity (visual check-in for your mom battery)
Time: 3-5 minutes (can be done while supervising kids)
You’ll need: Colored pencils, crayons, markers - whatever your kids haven’t eaten.
Try it when: You’re running on fumes but feel guilty for feeling that way.
How to: Draw five small shapes - circles, boxes, whatever. Label each one: parenting, work, chores, emotions, mental health.
Shade them in based on your actual energy, not what you think you “should” feel.
Why it helps: Because seeing your capacity on paper helps you stop gaslighting yourself. You’re not lazy. You’re full.
3. Draw Your Feelings (tub-time, tea-time, or meltdown moment)
Time: 10-15 minutes (save for quiet moments)
You’ll need: Paper, pen, markers (these are my fave) if you have them.
Try it when: Words feel clunky and you want to scream into a pillow.
How to: Ask yourself, What’s the loudest emotion right now?
Now draw it. Not realistically - energetically.
Your anxiety might look like black scribbles. Your hope, like pink spirals.
Why it helps: This isn’t about explaining feelings - it’s about expressing them.
And expression moves emotion.
4. The Enough Map (quieting the perfectionist spiral)
Time: 10-15 minutes (save for quiet moments)
You’ll need: Paper, markers or pens and a bit of space.
Try it when: The “I’m not doing enough” loop is on repeat.
How to: Draw an abstract map of your life - lumpy mountains, weird oceans, whatever.
Label areas like work, parenting, rest, identity.
Then ask yourself: What would feel like “enough” in this space today?
Why it helps: Because you don’t need more grit. You need more grace.
This isn’t about settling - it’s about softening.
5. The Aliveness Collage (finding your way back from numb)
Time: 20-30 minutes (ideal for self-care time)
You’ll need: Old magazines, scissors, glue, notebook or paper.
Try it when: You’re going through the motions and wondering where you went.
How to: Make two collages:
One for numbness (flat, cold, muted images)
One for aliveness (images that whisper yes in your body)
Sit with both. Don’t judge. Just notice.
Why it helps: This isn’t about fixing yourself.
It’s about gently remembering what it feels like to feel.
For When You're Feeling...
About to snap → Scribble Scream (1 min)
Running on empty → Color Your Capacity (check-in with your energy levels)
Wordlessly overwhelmed → Draw Your Feelings (express without explaining)
Not enough → The Enough Map (find your grace)
Disconnected → Aliveness Collage (remember what lights you up)
Remember: Start small, start scrappy, and use those in-between moments.
Sarah, a mom of three, gave the Scribble Scream a whirl during the chaos of dinner prep: "After just one minute of angry scribbling, I found myself laughing at how much lighter I felt. My kids even joined in!"
Does this sound like you?
We all know that voice in our heads, the one that dictates our worth based on sacrifice, the one that reminds us of everything except who we are beneath the layers of motherhood. Making time for yourself isn't just a luxury; it's necessary - an act of rebellion against centuries of conditioning.
Let’s face it: grabbing your phone instead of your journal is way too easy.
Why? Because the whispers (or sometimes shouts) of “It’s selfish,” “Now’s not the right time,” and “What do I think I’m doing?” amplify like a broken record. But guess what? You’re not broken for wanting a moment of peace; you're human. And every mom I’ve worked with has eventually found that their partners, given a chance, support their creative outlets wholeheartedly. It’s just a matter of claiming that time and space.
Embracing creativity is about more than just sticking a marker in your hand. It's an act of healing and rediscovery. It’s about embracing audacious autonomy. It’s about embedding snippets of joy - your joy - into a life that feels chaotic and full.
So, let your creativity slip into the crevices of your day: a spontaneous doodle during bathtime, a collage made in the car while you wait for pickup, or even a quick word in your journal when the house isn’t a battleground.
Each moment you carve out is a step back to your truest self.
Because trust me, your worth is not in your sacrifice but in your flourishing. Let’s get you back to you, one artful moment at a time!
Kayla Huszar is a creative counsellor, expressive arts therapist, and founder of The Motherload Membership - a community for overwhelmed moms who are ready to stop coping through self-abandonment.
Based in Leduc, Alberta and working virtually across Canada, she helps mothers turn pent up feelings into creative expression (and rage into collage).
You deserve this.
You’re not behind.
You’re simply on the brink of remembering who you truly are.
Follow Kayla on her Instagram account @kayla.huszar for mom life reality and tips!
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This information is for educational purposes only. Kayla cannot provide personalized advice or recommendations for your unique situation or circumstances. Therefore, nothing on this page or website should replace therapeutic recommendations or personalized advice. If you require such services, please consult with a medical or therapeutic provider to determine what's best for you. Kayla cannot be held responsible for your use of this website or its contents. Please never disregard or delay seeking medical or therapeutic treatment because of something you read or accessed through this website.
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