Sometimes the thing that makes us feel safe is the very thing we are most afraid to lose.
For Sammy, it was his shell.
It had always been there.
It went everywhere with him.
It was home.
It was protection.
It was part of who he was.
And then one day, it was gone.
Sammy is one of my Lost and Found Critters, and his story started with a very simple idea: a snail loses his shell.
That was really all I had when I started.
A little snail.
A missing shell.
A problem to solve.
But while I was drawing and coloring him, I started thinking about how much bigger that little idea really was.
Because all of us have something that makes life feel a little safer.
Maybe it is a routine.
A job.
A person.
A place.
Maybe it is a hobby you have done for years.
Maybe it is simply knowing what tomorrow is supposed to look like.
There is nothing wrong with feeling comfortable with those things. Most of us build our lives around things we can count on.
The same road to work.
The same chair in the living room.
The same person we call when something happens.
The same Saturday routine.
The same hobby waiting for us when the day is over.
Those familiar things can become part of the background of our lives.
We stop thinking about them.
We just expect them to be there.
Until they aren't.
Watch Sammy’s story unfold as I color him and talk about what happens when something familiar changes.
When Something Familiar Disappears
Sammy did not lose everything.
He lost the thing that made him feel protected.
But for a while, I imagine it probably felt like he had lost everything.
I think people experience versions of that feeling all the time.
A job ends.
A friendship changes.
The kids grow up and begin lives of their own.
You move somewhere new.
Something you used to be able to do easily becomes harder.
A plan you were certain about falls apart.
Or maybe nothing dramatic happens at all.
Sometimes life changes so slowly that you barely notice it.
Then one day you look around and realize that the old normal isn't there anymore.
That can be uncomfortable.
Sometimes it can be frightening.
We like to know where we are going.
We like to understand what comes next.
But life doesn't always give us that.
Sometimes it just hands us the next blank page.
You Don't Have to Know the Whole Story
Losing something familiar doesn't mean you stop.
It means you have to begin figuring out what comes next.
And usually, that doesn't happen all at once.
You take one small step.
Then another.
You try something.
You change your mind.
You try something else.
You discover something that works.
You discover something that absolutely does not work.
Then you keep going.
That is pretty much how I came back to drawing.
I didn't sit down with some giant plan for what the Hand Drawn Project would become.
I didn't know there would eventually be Lost and Found Critters.
I didn't know I would be making videos about creativity, change, or starting over.
I certainly didn't know I would someday be sitting around thinking about the emotional life of a snail who misplaced his house.
I just started drawing.
One drawing.
Then another.
A bird.
A turtle.
A mouse.
Most came out pretty good.
A few looked more like potatoes than birds.
But I kept plugging away.
Little by little, something that had felt unfamiliar began to feel normal again.
Not because I suddenly became great at it.
Because I kept showing up.
The Story Isn't Really About the Shell
That is what I like about Sammy.
His story is not really about losing a shell.
The shell is just where the story begins.
The interesting part is what happens after.
Does he stop?
Does he decide he can't move forward without the thing he used to depend on?
Or does he keep going?
Maybe a little slower.
Maybe uncertain.
Maybe still trying to understand what happened.
But moving.
I think that matters.
Because losing something doesn't always mean the story is over.
Sometimes it means the story has to change.
And change can be uncomfortable.
But uncomfortable is not the same thing as impossible.
There is a big difference between:
"I don't know what comes next."
and
"Nothing comes next."
Those two sentences can feel almost the same when you're standing in the middle of change.
But they aren't.
Not knowing simply means the next part hasn't been written yet.
Still Sammy
Eventually, there he is.
Sammy.
Still Sammy.
Maybe a little different.
Maybe still figuring things out.
But moving forward.
And maybe that is enough.
We spend a lot of time thinking we need to have everything figured out before we move.
A plan.
A direction.
A perfect answer.
But sometimes the next step is enough.
You don't need to know what the next five years look like.
Sometimes you don't even need to know what next month looks like.
You just need to know what you can do next.
Pick up the pencil.
Make the phone call.
Try the new thing.
Return to the old hobby.
Take the walk.
Draw the line.
Turn the page.
Then see what happens.
There Is Still More Story
If something in your life has changed, or something familiar isn't there anymore, you don't have to know exactly what comes next.
You aren't required to solve the whole story today.
Take the next little step.
Then another.
The direction may change.
You may erase something.
You may decide the first idea wasn't right.
That's okay.
A drawing doesn't appear finished on the page.
It begins with a few uncertain lines.
Some stay.
Some disappear.
Some become something you never expected when you first picked up the pencil.
Life can be a little like that too.
Sammy lost his shell.
But he didn't lose the rest of his story.
And neither do we.
Because every page starts with a few lines.
And eventually, those lines start adding up.
Keep creating. ❤️
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