I'm a little different.
I grew up in a shitty home. For various reasons I had no friends, my family was damaged beyond control and I never had anyone looking out for me.
I would draw to escape, imagine how excited I was to start real drawing classes in Jr high?
Just to get the worst teacher. Mr Frances. He killed any love I had for art for many years.
Then fate said no. I moved, and as such had a new school. I was forced into a drawing class. I found I had more imagination then talent. And actually would feel happier after drawing.
It became my anti depressant. In high school I flourished, improved by leaps and bounds. But then I had to graduate, couldn't afford school so had to get jobs. I went from drawing everyday to every other day. To once a week. To months without.
The less I draw the more I hate everything. So I recently quit my job to start up again.
I draw because I'd rather be happy then alive.