Sunday Self-Care: A 20-Minute Art Journaling Ritual for Rest

Hey friend.

It's Sunday afternoon and I'm sitting here with Gesso snoring on the rug beside me, paint under my fingernails from yesterday's spread, and a cup of tea that's gone lukewarm because I keep forgetting to drink it.

I want to share something with you. Not a tutorial with steps to follow perfectly. Not a prompt that requires deep emotional excavation. Just... a gentle ritual. Twenty minutes of making something with your hands as an act of rest. Not productivity. Not improvement. Just rest.

Because I think we forget that art journaling can be this. It doesn't always have to process the hard stuff or capture a memory or learn a new technique. Sometimes it's just... quiet time with paper and color. And that's enough.

What You'll Need (Keep It Simple)

I'm serious about keeping this minimal. The goal is rest, not supply hunting.

• A journal or paper — Any kind. Composition notebook, sketchbook, loose printer paper glued together later. Whatever you have.
• One color that feels calming — Could be watercolor, acrylic, a marker, colored pencil, even a ballpoint pen. Just one color that makes your shoulders drop when you look at it.
• Something to write with — Your usual pen, a pencil, anything.
• Optional: something soft to listen to — Music, rain sounds, a podcast you don't have to concentrate on, or silence. Your call.

That's it. No gel medium, no specialty supplies, no "you really should have gesso for this." Just you, a page, and something that makes color.

The Ritual (No Wrong Way, But Here's a Path)

Minute 1-2: Arrive
Put your phone in another room or face-down. Light a candle if you want. Sit with your journal and just... breathe for a second. Notice how your body feels. Tight shoulders? Clenched jaw? It's okay. You're here now.

Minute 3-8: Make a Mess, Gently
Open to any page. Take your one color and just... put it down. Don't try to make something pretty. Make a wash. Make stripes. Scribble. Cover the whole page or just a corner. There's no composition goal here. You're just marking time with color.

I like to do loose watercolor washes in blue or grey — colors that feel like rest to me. But maybe for you it's warm orange, or deep green, or bright pink. Whatever feels like a exhale.

Minute 9-15: Add Words (Or Don't)
While your color dries — or if you're using dry media, just whenever — add some words if you want. Not a full journal entry. Just fragments. Things you want to let go of. Things you're grateful for. A single word that describes how you want the week ahead to feel.

Or don't add words. Make marks instead. Doodles. Circles. Nothing at all. The page is yours.

Minute 16-20: Sit With It
This is the part we skip too often. Just... look at what you made. Not with a critical eye. With a gentle one. You spent twenty minutes caring for yourself by making something. That's the win. Not how the page looks. The fact that you stopped and breathed and played with color for a little while.

What This Isn't

This isn't about creating a "perfect self-care Sunday" aesthetic for Instagram. Your page might be muddy. Your writing might be messy. You might get distracted halfway through and start thinking about your to-do list. That's all okay.

This also isn't therapy. Art journaling is a beautiful self-care practice, but it's not a substitute for professional mental health support. If you're struggling, please reach out to a licensed therapist or call 988 (Suicide & Crisis Lifeline). You matter, and you deserve support.

Why I Do This

Sunday afternoons used to be when my anxiety would spike — thinking about the week ahead, everything I hadn't finished, the endless to-do list. I'd scroll my phone until my eyes hurt, seeking rest in a place that doesn't offer it.

Now I try to make something instead. Even for just twenty minutes. It doesn't fix everything. The week still comes. The to-dos are still there. But I've given myself this little pocket of time where I'm not performing or producing or planning. I'm just... present with paper and color.

And somehow, that helps.

Your Turn (If You Want)

If you feel like it, try this ritual today. Or tomorrow. Or next month. There's no schedule for rest. No consistency streak to maintain.

If you make a page and want to share it, I'd love to see. If you make a page and it's just for you, that's beautiful too. Your journal doesn't need an audience. It just needs you.

There's no wrong way to do this.

There's no wrong way to rest.

Take care of yourself, friend.

This post contains affiliate links. If you purchase through these links, I may earn a small commission at no extra cost to you. I only recommend supplies I genuinely use in my own journals.