There were flecks of color almost unnoticeably dashed upon the cream pages. A soft leather sheet wrapped the journal together, a brass clasp keeping its secrets from opening up. No one could not write if given this, I thought to myself as I took the journal from the seller’s hand and into my own possession.
The next morning I was in a cafe with my grandmother, a window to my left looked out to the towers in Seattle, cars humming softly in the street below.
With splotches of ink spilling, I wrote messily, “I was told to write a book, so that is what I am doing.” I continued on, writing about what it felt like to be in Seattle between the summer solstice and the autumn equinox. How the sun in the afternoons was warm and the rainy evenings posed a foreshadowing for the fall.
In the silence of both my grandma’s and my pen moving back and forth, there was color. Silence in one place gave a voice to another. Suddenly the porcelain teapot was clicking gently, and conversations from tourists mumbled in the carpeted room, echoing off of the empty ceiling. Journaling for the first time broadened my ability to have more conversations. I was talking with details in the cafe that I otherwise would not have paid any attention to.
The Beginning
On August 1st of 2021, I had little hope of filling the pages of my notebook since I had given up journaling during past attempts. But something struck differently this time. Letting go of any intention or purpose for this journal, I allowed myself to write messily and boringly. My only goal was to write. Journaling soon became engrained in my morning routine. I would light a candle and move my tired hand across the pages.
Mental Health and Conflict
In the past, while experiencing emotional turmoil, I seemed to disappear from journaling. Though I successfully have written every month since last August, there are few entries during the months of February, March, April, and May. Writing consistently makes me more clear-headed and during these times I was suppressing a truth that would make me the happiest since it would also result in pain. Though it is something I am still trying to grasp, avoiding pain only leads me to suffer more, which is why journaling is so helpful during times of conflict. It is a valuable tool I use once I am ready to grapple with toxic situations and my mental health.
Nostalgia
Though presence is crucial to feeling fulfilled, I’ve found nostalgia to be an important component of my overall well-being. It provides stories of past experiences and validates that there will always be good and bad while life unfolds. Creating a sense that I have conquered these stories, I feel reassured that I will continue to uncover bliss.
It is easier to make connections and recognize patterns when I’ve had diary entries to refer back to. I have more effectively been able to make changes in my well-being when I can look at pages of written words that left my head the moment they were scribbled down.
Where Journaling has Led Me
Completing my first journal struck me with emotion. Overwhelmed with gratitude, I also experienced sadness, as it felt that a chapter of my life I had been clinging to since arriving at school had softly come to a close. Starting a new journal has felt weird. There are new people in my life, I live in a new place, and almost all of my habits have morphed their way into something new. My old journal reminded me of home and made me feel closer to the summer when I bought it in Seattle.
Despite the sense of melancholy I feel closing this journal and starting a new one, everything eventually becomes familiar and I know that when I finish another year’s worth of writing, the stories told at the beginning will seem like a distant story, and I will reminisce the once unknown path.
