How to Start Journaling — Even if it’s “Not Your Thing”
With back-to-school season, adjusting to life without formal childcare, Mercury stationing retrograde tomorrow, and, well, life, my stress levels have been a bit elevated lately.
If a client came to me with this scenario, I'd likely ask, "What's worked for you in the past?"
We often don't need to reinvent the wheel -- we need to leverage the tools we already have.
So I'm taking myself back to basics. The top things that help me manage stress are:
movement to the stress cycle,
working with a coach, and
journaling to help sift through (and slow down) jumbles of thoughts.
Today, I offer you my tips for journaling, even if you're "not someone who journals," because that used to be me.
Don’t make it so precious.
I remember going to Barnes & Noble in high school, perusing the journals, and wanting to bring home every beautiful cover to fill with brilliant thoughts. I found I never used those journals, though, because I worried that what I was going to put on those pages wasn't "worthy."
When I did start journaling, I would only write on index cards or looseleaf, and I would tear it to shreds and toss it in the recycling bin when I was done. I didn’t need a record, I needed to get thoughts out.
Now I use simple $2 composition notebooks for my brain dumps. I appreciate beautiful stationery, but I feel most free journaling in something utilitarian.
Commit to pages, not insights.
In The Artist’s Way, Julia Cameron famously introduced the world to Morning Pages, three long-hand pages of free writing. What you write isn’t nearly as important as the act of writing.
This is the backbone of my journaling practice. If you were to flip through my journals (oh my word, please don't), you'd find a lot of “and I’m keeping the pen moving when will I get to the bottom of this page? What’s for dinner tonight? I need to finish the grocery order. I don’t think I put bananas on the list yet…”
Friends, it’s not sexy. But it works. Often around page 2.5, I’ve cleared out enough of the dreck that I can see what really needs to emerge. And sometimes all I’ve done is take 20 minutes for myself, and that’s enough.
Let go of perfection.
Even with all this, I don’t journal every day. Sometimes I fill a notebook in three months; my last one took me a year. Sometimes a kid comes out of their room early and I only get a page down.
The magic isn't in doing it "right" every day. It's in knowing my practice is there for me when I need it.
How to start
Maybe journaling really isn't for you. And maybe it is. I invite you to do an experiment for the next two weeks. As many days as you can, grab a notebook (or index cards, or looseleaf), settle in somewhere quiet, and move your pen without stopping.
At the end of the two weeks, notice if it helped settle your mind. Proceed accordingly.
