Ever since I was a little girl, I loved writing and journaling. When I look though my box of childhood treasures, there are countless journals that document days on vacation with my family and the goings on of my life at any given time. As I got older, my journal entries evolved to include the recollection of my dreams, listing my goals and aspirations for the future, and recounting the day-to-day relational happenings with my colleagues, friends, and family. My journal was the place I would say the things I couldn’t always say out loud, and I closed each entry with ease; my mind had more space and I felt wave of relaxation come over me. Up until six months ago I journaled several times a week, if not daily, and it was an important part of my routine.
Over the past several months, however, I’ve been disconnected from this practice I’ve always cherished. And while this has happened in small segments before, and as much as I could use the lack-of-time excuse for why it was pushed to the bottom of my priority list, that wouldn’t be the whole truth.
As my journaling started to slow down, even before it came to a full stop, I wondered why my words weren’t flowing the same way they once did. I still had a lot going on, and arguably even more that I should be writing down and processing in the way that always helped me. I wanted to sit down at my desk and write, but as soon as I did, my brain would either go blank or felt too chaotic to pick a place to start. At first, I chalked this up to not having as much time in my schedule and something having to give. I’d think, “I must need some more time to decompress and get into a groove”. It made sense logically, but deep down I had a feeling it was more than just a shortage of time to focus.
Shortly thereafter, I came up with another theory. I rationalized that my trouble writing was because I was already spending a lot of time verbally processing what was going on with my counsellor, leaving little energy left to repeat it on paper or think deeply about much else. There were many days when my husband would try to talk to me, whether it was something light or more serious, and I could physically feel how low my energy tank was for anymore talking. It seemed like all I was doing was talking! If you’ve committed to counselling or therapy (or coaching!) I’m sure you know how much mental and emotional effort it can take up; it’s not just the 60-90 minutes in the session, but the time spent reflecting on the session afterwards as well. This theory also seemed very logical to me, despite having been through seasons when this hadn’t effected my journaling before.
A few more months went by. I circled back to my previous theories, contemplated their validity, and reflected on what now seemed like a resistance to writing altogether. Whether it was personal journaling or professional writing, my energy and focus were still lost. This didn’t sit well with me, and I really wanted to make a shift. After reading an article and getting a pep talk from my husband, I was inspired and motivated to sit and write, even if it felt choppy and imperfect. I committed to myself that I would get back into writing regardless, and in the process, I landed on a new insight as to why this resistance may have occurred in the first place. This new theory of mine may not be fully flushed out, but in my effort to make that shift and start anyway, here it is.
For a long time, I had a hard time sharing my truth. Even in my lowest moments when I’d be sharing with someone I loved and trusted, there was always a piece of me and my thought process that I was holding back, whether I was fully attuned to it or not. I leaned on writing a lot, especially when my life felt messy and chaotic, and my journal became a place of freedom for my thoughts to flow. As I dove into coach training, what so often came to light was my desire for authentic and honest self-expression, the desire to use my voice. I didn’t realize how much I was holding back until I was opening up more freely in these coaching sessions. During my training, I met one coach in particular (who is now a dear friend of mine), and he would often remind me of this theme that was coming up during our practice sessions: “it sounds like you need to use your voice”.
Over the last few years, and the past 6-12 months in particular, I’ve had many opportunities to do just that. Both inside and outside of counselling, this meant a lot of hard conversations and setting and reinforcing boundaries – things that were not easy for me. “It sounds like you need to use your voice” continued to circle my brain again and again, and little by little, I did just that. Thankfully, over time using my voice became easier and more natural. It required less analyzing and pre-planning as I trusted myself more in each moment. I could feel my autonomy and confidence build each time I connected and shared how I truly felt, whether it was something minor like what I wanted for dinner, or something more significant like expressing hurt or disappointment with a loved one.
Recently, I started to wonder if the reason I’ve struggled to get back into writing wasn’t necessarily because I was tapped out from the verbal processing in counselling per se, but more specifically because I had found a broader outlet for releasing my inner thoughts and feelings. Perhaps the more I started speaking my truth, the less I ‘needed’ writing, at least in the same way I once had. Using my voice had transitioned from the confines of my journal with a pen and paper to being out loud with those around me.
Thankfully, that doesn’t mean there isn’t a place for journaling. In fact, the upside is that my journal can now be a place with more than the brain-dump of stress that it had become– it can be used for insights, dreams, goals, and anything in between, too. Sometimes it takes a pause and the pendulum swinging far in the opposite direction to land in a more centered place. For me, this is a place where I can share what I need to out loud (read: use my voice :) ) while also having the space for my private thoughts and struggles to sit and marinate. As I’m coming out of writing hibernation, I’m realizing that both are valid and required for authentic connection, so I’m intentionally making space for both.
“It sounds like you need to use your voice” - even though I don’t need this reminder the same way I once did, I smile when it pops into my head; I remember when I was desperate for it, how his subtle encouragement was always there supporting me like a little cheerleader in my head, and I’m so grateful to him. While his voice used to be loud and pronounced when I was withholding my voice, now it’s quieter and more like a little glimmer of “you’ve got this” energy. There’s no going back now. :)
I’m curious if this resonated with you, in full or in part. Have you ever noticed this come up in your life, whether it’s with journaling or another way that you connect with yourself? What was it that got in the way of that and what was it that led you back to it?
If you’re in a season of pause with journalling or another habit that you’re missing, that’s okay too! Stay tuned for more on that coming soon ;)
Until next time..
Bri
So grateful you’ve learned to “use your voice” in more spaces outside of your journal...the world is surely a better place because of it 💛
This was so interesting and intriguing. The way you kept circling back to figure out what was really happening- I really liked that. Not to be so quick to decide. Also, the theory is so interesting. That your external world was filling the space that used to be internal. I’m wondering how this would work for an introvert attempting to become more extrovert or al least ambivert.
A LOT to think about here.