Journaling Where You Can

Hello, friends!

In the new year, I’ve found myself more and more dedicated to preserving my peace, a concept my chaotic and restless mind has always struggled with. One might assume this new practice is a New Year’s Resolution… and it kinda is, but not exactly. Days after watching the ball drop on my TV, my mom was diagnosed with breast cancer. And well, since then, my family has been forced to contemplate that life is short and goes by quickly. Before you get too concerned, she’s okay; her doctors caught it incredibly early. But I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that the whirlwind of doctor appointments, tests, and surgeries has taken a toll on our family. 

My mom’s diagnosis cracked the foundation of everything I knew. Life is hard, but my family and I are healthy. I can’t quite say that anymore. This idea brings us back to the concept of peace. I was living in a time when mine had been ripped out from under me. In order to get a break from the chaos at home and deal with everything I was feeling, I would steal little moments away from myself and drive to a small beach about twenty minutes down the road from my house.

I quickly developed a pattern. I’d drive over and walk along the shoreline while my comfort playlist replayed over and over again in my AirPods. While I’ve spent the majority of my life losing myself in the beautiful melodies and lyrics of my favorite artists, that wasn’t the point of this excursion. Most of this time was spent going over what had happened between my last trip and what I needed to do when I got back.  When I grew tired of walking and collecting stones, I would curl up on my beach blanket and open up my journal. 

My journal, a small hardcover book covered in intricate golden designs, became an extension of myself. The pages were littered with my thoughts and ideas. Half-written songs, a particularly poetic line I wanted to include in a novel someday, character outlines, a rant about the argument my brother and I had the night before, everything and anything that entered my mind. And with each word, I could feel the tension leaving my body. As time went on, I realized what I was doing and decided to consult more traditional prompts. I tried to add more positivity to my writing, something I was grateful for, something I did well, and other things within that vein. 

When I made it a full week of checking in every day, I decided to reward myself with buying a new baby pink journal. One with unlined pages that I could make look like all the journals I saw on Pinterest. This was when things started to go downhill. I started the new journal with too much structure, like the pictures that bombarded my For You Page. Every page needed to be color-coded and grounded to one topic, a rule that I had never applied to the other journal. I started to need at least twenty minutes just to decide what to focus on and what colors would best represent each topic. It didn’t help matters that I’ve never been particularly good at sticking to a routine. I’ve always been a bit too restless to stick to the rigid schedules I often try to enforce upon myself, and this time was no different. 

Just like that, journaling went from a relief to another chore. It barely lasted three days before I stopped doing it. 

I kept going to the beach, though. But the journals stayed at home. I couldn’t be bothered to drag along the box of markers, washi tape, and various supplies that everyone on the internet insisted I needed to properly express my thoughts. So, despite the frequent beach visits, I didn’t dedicate as much time to writing as I intended. Once my brother, his wife, and I started going together to treat our dogs to a beach day, the concept of journaling didn’t even cross my mind. 

And in any other case, that would probably be the end of the story. Just another New Year's Resolution picked up and dropped before the end of the month.  But, of course, journaling, at least in the original form, was more than a resolution to me. I’m a writer by trade, always have been, and hopefully always will be. During the semester, I could barely go a few hours without having to write in some capacity, so every bit of this situation was foreign to me. But my mom had another surgery scheduled, and the house needed to be sanitized and prepped, and there just wasn’t time to give it another shot. 

That’s when the universe and its infinite wisdom sent me Fyvie– a self-care pet I had downloaded months prior. The app itself is called Finch. It motivates you to take care of yourself because, by taking care of yourself, you’re taking care of your pet– a trick that works far too well on me.  The notification said something along the lines of, “Fyvie misses you! Do you want to reflect on what you’re grateful for?” In that moment it was like pieces fell into place. The solution to my problem was easy. All I had to do was open the app and type in a quick gratitude list. But instead of taking upwards of twenty minutes for me to pick the correct color scheme, I only needed 60 seconds to answer. 

After that short reflection, I felt a little better. Even as brief as it was, I was still able to slow down and reflect on some good things in my life- find the silver lining, if you will. It also helped me realize how easy it is to discretely pull my phone out of my pocket and reflect on my day or quickly jot down a story idea that had been bouncing around my head all day. And since then, that’s what I do. It’s been nearly a month and a half since, and I can honestly say I write now more than ever. The ability to pick up whatever is closest to me and quickly write down whatever pops into my head is almost as freeing as it is healing.

Erin Muñoz