by Jeannie Mecorney
Last week, I had the opportunity to speak at the National Advocates on Mental Illness (NAMI) California Conference in Sacramento. As the Graphic Medicine and Mental Health Liaison, my goal was to introduce attendees to the world of graphic medicine and invite them to “draw their own stories”—the title of my presentation—by creating personal zines about their mental health journeys.
I began by sharing my own story of childhood trauma, growing up with an abusive father who was also diagnosed with paranoid schizophrenia. From there, I introduced the concept of graphic medicine—the intersection between comics and the discourse of healthcare, where personal narratives and visual storytelling combine to explore experiences of illness, caregiving, and healing.
Some attendees were familiar with graphic novels but had not encountered the term graphic medicine before. I showed them several examples of graphic memoirs and works featured here on the Graphic Medicine website. While a few nodded in recognition, most were encountering these ideas for the first time. It was hard to tell at first whether they were connecting with the material on a personal level—but I could see curiosity building.
Next, I shared a few zines—some of my own and those made by others—and then demonstrated how to fold an eight-page zine from a single sheet of paper. On a nearby table, I had set out a ream of paper, hundreds of crayons, colored pens, and a handful of scissors. Then, I offered them a creative prompt inspired by Marc Maron:“The monster I created to protect me as a child is hard to control.”
I invited everyone to create their own zine in response. I expected only a few to take up the challenge—but to my happy surprise, the entire group stayed to draw their stories. Many came up afterward to share their creations and reflections with me.
That moment reaffirmed why graphic medicine matters. Communicating our stories visually—through drawn stories, comics, and zines—can help us process experiences, de-stigmatize mental illness, and reclaim our voices. We are all artists at heart. We all once knew it, until our parents stopped putting our drawings on the refrigerator. But we can rediscover that creative part of ourselves, and in doing so, find healing.
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