#9 — You Don’t Have to Journal Every Day

I have a confession to make.

I am not a consistent journaler. I hate to admit that I am still using the same journal my friend Sumaiya gave me in 2019.

But recently, I’ve been feeling called to write more. To journal and reflect. To put words down slowly, with intention. To hope, and to have faith that things will shift, even in the middle of all this messiness we’re trying to live through right now.

Getting My Dreams Back

I am still recovering from surgery. I feel different. Better. I am sleeping more comfortably. My walking pace has improved. And I can finally have my beloved orange creamsicle smoothies again. The other day, I had a small bite of chocolate (thanks, Jill!), and I felt the light creep back into me. My soul, glowing again.

My partner is out for most of the day, and I am doing my absolute best, as a recovering workaholic, not to look at my emails. I feel like I’ve worked my way through the entire BritBox catalogue. Even my emotional support shows, Vera and Death in Paradise, don’t quite hit the same way they used to.

Sometimes I’m bored. Sometimes I sit with my bears, soak in the afternoon sun, and listen to the street noise drifting up from below. I nap—a lot.

And only recently have I begun to appreciate the privilege in that.

How lucky I am to have this time. To rest so deeply that I can dream. I have vivid dreams now. Last year, and the year before that, I barely dreamt at all; I was so overworked, so exhausted, so hollowed out by insomnia that sleep offered nothing but more darkness. What a joy, then, to have my dreams returned to me. To wake up late. To listen to podcasts. To spend my days drinking tea in my muumuu, going nowhere in particular.

Slow Journaling

I was beating myself up for not journaling, even with all this time stretched out before me. I should be journaling every day, I told myself. I have no excuse.

But I’ve realized that’s simply not who I am.

I am not a daily journaler. I am a slow journaler — someone who writes when she feels called to, not on a schedule. I don’t have an impressive stack of journals lined up on a shelf. I have one lovely, gifted journal. A Lamy pen filled with pink ink. And very soon, I intend to introduce stickers into my journaling life.

I am learning to delight in slowness. In reflection. In the quiet, unhurried act of writing things down just because they matter to me.

You Don’t Need the Expensive Journal

And I’m sharing this because I want you to know: it’s okay to move at your own pace. You do not need the journal that costs hundreds of dollars. A two-dollar pen still works. Your words are no less worthy for being written in something ordinary.

This Month’s Reflection Question

This month, my slow journaling has centred on a few questions, and I’ll leave it here with you, too: You are in a transition season. Your soul is awakening. Do not fight it. What are you afraid of? What does it mean to find stillness in the chaos of this moment?

Sit with it for as long as you need. How about you? What is your journaling style? What are you reflecting on this season?