Journaling is interesting. I used to say I did not journal. Because my definition of what journaling meant was narrow. I compared it to the type of things I read. Journals were meant to be insightful, well articulated, and sometimes reaching the height of prose. They had to be written in paper and in ink. Mine weren’t that. Even when I followed journal worksheets and guides, it would end up being an act of compliance. Was I doing it right? What am I supposed to feel when I write it? Is it the right length? Is this really a stream of consciousness writing? What If I’m lying to myself?
This has a lot to do with my background. When you grow up as a a people pleaser, you value compliance. And, to our detriment, you disvalue/discredit your own thoughts and opinions. “There’re right answers, and they’re not what I think” is what I would hold as the implicit truth.
I am aware of it now. And, I am changing that. It takes time though.
And, I do think my definition is growing. Everything including video journaling, audio journaling, and even graphic journaling appear valid. I will never know why my definition was stunted. Why was there a distinction between blogging and journaling. The former is merely the digital analog to the other. I knew this, and the distinction had persisted. There’s no reason for this distinction. I used Xanga, LiveJournal, and many of its ilk. It common for others to use it as their dairy or journal. Why did I not?
A part of the answer is vulnerability. I don’t think I was ever comfortable sharing who I was in that detail. I feel unease. It, again, comes to how you grew up. Knowledge can be weaponized, and had been for me. And more than that, it was about being able to own your thoughts. Owning it, in the sense that you can back it up and stand by it. When your values lie in compliancy, you tend not to do that.
Slowly, I found that I was able to journal properly as long as I kept the materials under figurative lock and key. They were for my eyes, and no one else even knew of its existence. The thing with vulnerability and insecurity, is that they combine well to form a freakish paranoia. I would write things and immediately scrap it. Someone could read it. Someone might see a sliver of my thoughts. It was harrowing.
And the shocking bit is, the things I wrote were not bad. They were not critical of anyone (myself excluded). A majority of them were actually recollections of good times I had with others and thoughts about life.
But every now and then, the paranoia would get the best of me; During depressive moments, or otherwise stressful situations. And I would burn the notebooks. Sometimes literal “throw it in a fire” moments, but I would end up shredding the bulk of them. I regret that now. A few of these had wonderful memories of my friends. One of these had entries from the day I started talking to my wife, our first date, and so forth. And it had depressive thoughts, suicidal ideations, and pages and pages of awful things about myself. I’ll never have to read those again. And, I’ll never get to read those again.
And, it is awful to say, but I am upset I will never experience the sheer stress relief that came from getting rid of those journals. It was a burden lifted. In those moment where I was struggling, it felt great.
A part of the reason for my blogging is to prevent this. The other is to practice confidence in my thoughts and less about compliance.
In the past I have tried so many journaling methods. They include everything from: Travel Notebook, Bullet Journal (BUJO), Prose, Prompts, Stream of consciousness, Gratitude, Unsent letters, Affirmations, and even nature/graphic journalling. I’m not sure if some of these are even proper methods. But I never stuck to a single one. And recently I came across this one called the Vomit System. And, funny enough, this is the one that feels most like what I have been doing all along. He has more frame-works, and has good examples of things you can use. I didn’t do any of that. The section he does on mindset is my favorite. I can’t wait to try the inversion technique. What a fantastic way to switch perspectives.