“I could do that” is a sickness, and I have it bad. I also have an obsession with beautiful dresses I see on Instagram, and an allergy to paying $300 for one.

I’ve kept an illustrated journal since 2009. Here, for your amusement, is a look into some of my notes and sketches over the years.

The truth is, I was happy with the work I had done, and content in knowing that the client was absolutely delighted with it. I was also aware of what I could have done differently, and what I might do next time. But instead of experiencing that knowing as a tight embarrassment, or a pointy shame attack, it felt like the spark of inspiration for the next piece for this client. It felt useful. It felt healthy. Because my inner critic and I are getting along great these days. We’re on the same side.