Why We Are Afraid to Journal

I usually get one of three reactions when I mention teaching journaling courses.

1. “Oh yeah, I journaled when I was a teenager.”

2. “I really want to journal, but it’s hard to make myself.”

3. “No thank you, I do not want to know what’s in there.”

This post is for door number 3.

“All of humanity’s problems stem from man’s inability to sit quietly in a room alone.”
— Blaise Pascal

There is a risk you run when you start transcribing your mind. You may come face to face with imbalances you were comfortable ignoring.

Right now, it might be a vague unease pressing at your awareness. Or there may be a shadowy sadness too cold to contemplate. A softly simmering rage, or a restless sense of incomplete action.

To my knowledge, we all experience some degree of internal turmoil (at least I have yet to run out). Most of the time, distraction quiets the sensation. Fair enough. There’s no requirement to slay docile dragons.

But there are two problems with turning on our backs on these creatures.

• The first is the danger: when neglected, they become aggressive.

• The second is the opportunity: if we befriend them, we can learn to ride them.

Let’s lay it out:

What would happen if you opened up a notebook and just bared your soul? Not for anyone else to see. Not for the internet to diagnose. For your eyes only. What would happened if you just told yourself the truth, in pen and ink?

Actually, let’s make this easier: What if you simply took stock of what you are feeling right now?

Check in: What are you feeling?

If you take a moment to ask yourself, you’ll likely get a sense of a surface-layer state. One clear note. Then wait a moment. Is there a murkier layer beneath it?

If you take up your pen, that next layer will come into view. And then another layer. And another layer.

What would actually happen if you sat down and described these internal states, one by one? What if you stayed with yourself and paid exquisite attention to what you are thinking and feeling? What if you wrote down what you feel for just 15 minutes?

NOTE - The objective is not to cause a panic attack. If this prospect is overwhelming, consider trying it with a friend or therapist.

But whether you try this on your own or with support, the reality is that nothing much would change in the external environment as you wrote. So you wouldn’t be worse off in any material sense.

You’d be in exactly the same position you are in right now.

You would just be more aware of what you’re feeling.

This is the irony. When we close down in response to what we don’t want to feel, we think we’re closing off to the emotion. But that’s impossible, because you already feel it. It’s already inside.

When you close, you close around it. You lock it in. And then lock up another layer over it. And another layer. So yes, it’s muffled, but it’s in you, and you’re still feeling it, as well as the avoidance and anxiety hushing it up.

Journaling unearths these emotions and brings them to your consciousness.

That’s where they can be resolved.

The fear is that giving voice to unwelcome feelings will cause them to swell and overpower you, taking away your hard-won homeostasis. Why go there? But in practice, transforming vague sensations into written statements does not diminish your decision-making. Far from it.

What long-time journalers know is that even the scariest feelings shrink to manageable proportions on the page. In the warm light of your attention, your quaking heart will calm.

It will not overpower you. All it wants is to be acknowledged. The astonishing discovery is that once the heart is allowed to speak, it will soften. It will listen.

The most powerful journaling exercise I know explores this realm of two-way communication. It begins with giving voice to the aching heart, and then opens to a source of guidance.

I can’t tell you what exactly will emerge when you do this exercise, but there’s a reason it’s a consistent favorite of my journaling students.

It’s important to note that if you’re new to journaling, you don’t need to start with the most soul-scorching revelations. In my 21-Day Journaling On-Ramp, we begin with very gentle introductory exercises that get writers used to the practice. You develop trust in the tool before diving deeper.

But if you’re ready to gather your courage and get curious about those shadowy emotional dragons, you will find they do not want to annihilate you.

Give them a little space, a little care, and they will help you fly.

Join the Journaling On-Ramp by January 31, and you’ll also get access all semester to Writing Hour — a live, facilitated space that holds your writing time for you. More info here: Join the Journaling On-Ramp.