What Journaling Actually Looks Like When You’re Not A Journaling Person

There’s a version of journaling that lives on Pinterest. Soft morning light, a steaming mug, a beautifully curated notebook with a pen that probably costs $20. The woman writing in it looks calm. Intentional. Like she’s had this practice for years and it’s simply part of who she is.

That was not me.

I did not come to journaling through discipline or inspiration or a self-help book that finally clicked. I came to it through desperation.

I was going through one of the hardest seasons of my life. The kind where you don’t know where to turn or where to start, and you’re so deep in it that the idea of “doing something about it” feels almost laughable. A good friend, watching me fall apart, suggested I meet her mom, who reads tarot.

I want to be clear: I wasn't going because I believed in tarot. I went because I would have tried anything. That’s the kind of lost I was.

I booked 2 sessions. The second one ran away over time. I cried. I got angry. She said things that landed somewhere I didn't expect, and I left feeling cracked open in a way I hadn’t felt in a long time. At the end, she gave me one piece of advice:

Write a letter to the person you’re processing. Then rip it up.

So I did. I sat down, wrote everything I’d been carrying around in my chest, and tore it into pieces.

And I felt better.

Not fixed. Just…lighter.

So I did it again. And again. And slowly, without really naming it anything, I started writing things down that weren’t letters to anyone. Just thoughts. Feelings. Questions I didn't have answers to. Things I was too scared to say out loud but apparently not too scared to write.

I didn’t realize until much later that I was journaling.

It Doesn’t Have to Look Like What You Think It Looks Like

This is the one thing no one tells you about self-reflection: there’s no correct format or perfect way to do it. No minimum word count. No ‘one-size fits all’ notebook, or even in complete sentences.

It can look like a letter you write and throw away. A voice memo you record on a walk. Three sentences in the Notes app at 1am. A list of everything that’s bothering you, just to get it out of your head and onto something that isn’t your nervous system.

The format doesn’t matter…the honesty does.

The reason that first letter worked wasn’t because of the ritual of ripping it up. It worked because for the first time in a long time, I let the truth out. To myself, on paper, without needing it edit it for someone else.

That’s it. That’s the whole practice.

For the Woman Who Tried and Quit

If you’ve bought a journal and never opened it, or opened it and hated what came out, or started strong and abandoned it by day 4…that’s what happens when the format doesn’t fit the moment.

You don’t need to be a journaling person. You just need to be a person who, every once in a while, is willing to sit down and be honest with herself.

Start smaller than you think you need to. One sentence. One question. One letter you’re going to rip up the second you are done.

See what happens.

That’s how it started for me.

Luna & Lavender exists for the woman who is ready to begin. Even if she doesn’t know what beginning looks like yet. Start with our free journal prompts → http://luna-lavender-4pye98.subscribepage.io