Journaling every morning is an ongoing conversation with my inner world.
It’s a routine that starts my day and wakes up my right brain and says hello. I’m here. It loosens me up and soothes me. And makes me more sharp and elastic. It connects me to the past. It helps me be in the present and ponder the future. It makes me notice and insists I keep going.
It urges me to stay put and not bounce away. It insists I complete a thought, articulate a thing inside me. Slow down. Be with myself, like a meditation.
Journaling makes me question myself.
It’s where I can look in the mirror and be truthful. It’s where doubt can rest her weary head. And fear. And all the feelings that slide to my belly and set me off course. It helps me know my course or define and shape it. It boosts me up and it’s where I practice parts-love.
It’s where I notice the parts of me that I push away and where I invite them back in. It’s where I work on myself and let all the parts of me come together as a family or splinter like a family. It’s where I work on accepting what I don’t want to accept and where I invite truth - to teach me something I need to know.
I journal everyday because it’s a good habit.
I choose it. It makes me real, and not someone shooting for some ideal, who lives in platitudes, who is afraid of being seen. I write because when I do the words belong to me and I get to watch them roll out of my fingers into the next open space and somehow good or bad, they are mine.
I write because I can be an artist writing my story.
I write because I need to know myself better than I do now. What’s holding me back? What am I still afraid of? When do I not believe in myself? Where does that come from?
I write because I won’t read all this again. And can delete it so no one else does either. Not because I’m ashamed but because it’s not the reason I do it.
I write because it’s right now. And writing helps ground me in the right now. I feel that anchoring and it calms me.
I write so I can let go.
Not tighten up. Not control. I write because I notice how the commitment to the words and the feelings are not always the same or aligned and that is curious and hard to reconcile. Even now, when I know no one will read this, there’s an editor trying to sway my words. I write to let go of the editor, to erase that thin line or wall or boundary that keeps transparency and truth at a distance.
I write because I need to know what I believe.
I write because I believe there’s nothing to be afraid of in me. I write because I still don’t fully know myself and those unknowns in me I want know before I die. I write because I want to dig to my soul and be there and feel comfortable.
I write because my children are grown and gone, my heart is no longer outside of me and sometimes I feel aging disconnects me from vulnerability.
Have I become cynical? I write to explore that, to discover myself and to open up.
I write because it makes me happier, less stressed, more agile of mind and creates balance I need and want in my life.
I write because I am my own best friend and need to invest in that relationship with all my might. I write because I want to capture my life, because it’s going by so quickly. I want to look out the window and slow down my gaze and my thoughts.
I write in my journal on my computer because it’s easier than handwriting and quicker, and I can keep it with me, and erase it when I want. A handwritten journal someone will find.
I write because I treasure this privacy. I write to expand my vocabulary. To practice putting words together. To activate my learning mind.
I write to wake up.
To insist on staying awake. To say something and to lovingly listen to what I have to say. I write to practice kindness and compassion. If I can be loving and compassionate here, I can be more loving and compassionate out there.
I write because it makes my brain work and oils the machine that is my mind with all that it holds.
Lest I forget.
I write to keep the windows and doors of my castle open.