My Journaling Journey
I have kept a journal for as long as I can remember.
I got my first one as a birthday gift in the second grade, which I filled with “Dear Diary”-esque entries and to-do lists because I was that kind of second grader. Later in the fourth or fifth grade, I decided that the entries were childish and promptly threw my dearest diary in the trash.
My second journal was a gift from my aunt after I had lost my mom in the seventh grade. It offered me an avenue to untangle my difficult emotions in the months following her passing. While I haven’t opened that journal in years, I remember it being a great comfort during that period of my life.
I started writing my third journal midway through high school. Fuelled by punk rock music and arguably too much caffeine, the journal housed the anger and hopes and dreams of a typical sixteen-year-old. I lost touch with that journal somewhere in the midst of studying and exams, and thank goodness for that. I am cringing right now as I read through the entries.
While I wrote more than I ever had during my time in university, little of that writing was done in a diary. I felt that I lacked the time to keep a diary in a traditional sense, and so that left me with a smattering of reflections collecting dust in digital formats. I did, however, start writing this blog during my fourth-year of university, and it has quickly become home to my late-night shower thoughts.
A few months ago, I revisited the idea of journalling. I found an unused journal and decided to jot down one sentence to recap my day. I did the same the next day and the day after that. Soon, I began finding joy in little things that often went unnoticed (see: “My boba was extra good today!”). Plus, I got a good laugh from reading back the entries.
Four months later, I am happy to report that I am regularly writing two-to-three sentence entries in my current journal. These short reflections have done wonders for helping me become more present in my day-to-day life. In the future, I would love to start writing “morning pages” or deeper reflections that support my creative process and writing abilities.
And to my first diary, I want to formally apologize for getting rid of you — you were pretty dear to me after all.
