My journaling practice
Photo by Sarah Young in Ithaca, Greece (September 2019)
I love journaling. It is my longest and most successful relationship thus far. In some ways, it has saved my life.
It started when I was an undergrad in 1998. Journaling became a way to manage my anxiety — an outlet, a release valve. 26 years later, I still begin most days with writing and coffee. Usually it's by hand, but sometimes my thoughts are racing so quickly I type them out.
I've tried journaling in lots of ways: audio, video, watercolor, collage, bullet journals, writing by hand, typing on a typewriter, typing on a laptop, Apple pencil and an iPad, journaling apps on my iPhone. I've written on napkins and scraps of paper, a fancy leather-bound journal bought at an art fair, handmade journals and cheap notebooks from the grocery store.
I have boxes of filled journals in my attic, but I've also shredded and burned them.
It all works. Every method of journaling helps me process my inner experience; it's just a matter of matching the method to my current state of mind. Sometimes writing by hand helps slow my racing thoughts and feels calming; sometimes it's too slow and feels frustrating. On those days, audio journaling or typing are better.
I've recommended journaling to lots of people over the years and often people say they'd like to journal, but struggle to keep up with it. Or, faced with a brand new blank book, feel that their thoughts aren't important enough to ruin the perfect page.
I must admit, my least favorite journal over the last 26 years was that fancy leather-bound journal I bought at an art fair for $70. It was beautiful — handmade paper, hand-sewn binding, soft buttery leather. I kept that journal on a shelf for years, waiting to have something important enough to put in it. When I finally did start using it, I felt disappointed, like I’d ruined it.
So now I have a policy that I don’t buy blank books that are that expensive or seem that precious. I just don’t need that kind of pressure. Also, the journal itself is not the point. It’s a tool, like a hammer or a spatula. You want a tool that will fit the task, not a tool that will be so intimidating that you won’t even be able to start.
It’s OK if journaling isn’t helpful for you. In that case, you just need to find out what is helpful. It’s probably something more active (walking, swimming), or requiring a different kind of focus or dexterity (painting, knitting).
If you do like journaling but feel inhibited by that niggling voice telling you that the journal has to be pretty, that you have to have thoughts worthy of the page, then I encourage you to keep trying.
I’d also encourage you to see just how “lived in” you can make your journal. Make it look used, loved, worn, weathered. Take it everywhere, let the covers get ragged and stained from being shoved into your handbag or carried in the rain or written in a coffeeshop. Use it to write lists, paste in photos or receipts or mementos, draw or doodle.
The point of the journal is to make it your own. It’s for you and your process, whatever that may be.
You can always burn it in the end if you want, and make that another kind of ritual.
More inspiration for the practice of journaling:
Katherine May on keeping a writer’s notebook
Julia Cameron and morning pages
