Using Your Journal as a Weapon Against Life Obstacles
This post was written by an anonymous guest blogger. (Thanks, anonymous guest blogger!)
There were times when things didn’t fall into place. There were other times when they perfectly aligned with everything I had ever wanted, but somehow, no matter what I did, I didn’t feel like I was getting anywhere. A beautiful family, great friends, a fantastic paycheck, and a partner who worshiped me were right there at my immediate reach and, still, it wasn’t enough. What was I doing wrong that I was feeling so anxious, empty, and unhappy?
The truth is – nothing. I was doing everything I was supposed to do, in the way I was supposed to do it. The problem was, I didn’t feel comfortable talking to anyone about how I was feeling at the time, for more reasons than one.
It was hard to talk to anyone
First, I was afraid someone might start thinking differently of me – if I let them see what a mess I was at the time, I’d no longer be this put together woman-child everyone admired. Second, I couldn’t trust anyone with my feelings, not even a therapist, because why would a put together person go to a therapist, right? I couldn’t merely deal with explaining. Third, I knew what I was feeling was profound, even transformative, and I couldn’t let a random person understand what I felt before I did. I needed to understand the complexity of my inner world myself to be able to make any sense of it. So, I did the next best thing – I bought a journal to let it all out, be honest with myself and find ways to communicate even the most in-depth stuff I never thought I’d be able to process.
My journal was there for me
Line by line, truth by truth, my inner world started changing. Sometimes, I didn’t write for days. Other times, I’d sit and write for hours, no rhyme or reason, write – everything that I felt suffocating me, everything I knew was there but didn’t know how to define it. It was therapeutic; it was terrific. It still is. It helped me remember everything I’d buried a long time ago. Keeping a journal helped me breathe again.
I remember listening to ‘Frank Ocean – Swim Good’ a lot in those days. For some reason, I felt the song was telling more in three minutes than I’d ever been able to say to anyone… or myself. But I was wrong. As the time was passing, writing in my journal became a necessity, a way out, a need, a healthy habit. The more I’d write, the better I’d feel and, at one point, things started making sense. And it was always there. I’d carry my journal everywhere I’d go, and I’d trust it to be my dependable confidant in the times of crisis. Or happiness I wanted to keep for myself.
The structure that worked for me
I’d write for 15 days straight then re-read everything I had been writing up to that point. Why did I do this? I needed to reflect and see what I was feeling and whether any of it changes in time. The thing is – it did. I feel like everything I wrote down, every pain I felt, every joy that made me excited, all of it – written all over my diary – gave sense to what I thought at the time. Through careful reflection on the written, I finally understand why I was feeling the way I did. I noticed patterns and found ways to break them. I was free.
Reflection and perspective are curious things; when you’ve got your feelings written down as solid proof of their existence, there’s little or none wiggle room to say you’ve tripped it. You know you’d felt it, you’d written it, and now it’s up to you to process it. And I did. You should, too. Buy yourself a journal and start writing down everything you don’t trust others would understand. You’ll see how your life will change soon enough.
How has your life changed since keeping a journal?
