All About You FRIDAY – How Journaling Saved My Life

Closeup image of a woman writing on blank notebook on wooden table

That title headlined several YouTube videos I watched as I fell down a “rabbit hole” one Friday night. Maybe you can relate.

I have an intense workweek filled with a lot of obligation: patient-care, documentation, blogging, guitar and band practice, etc. I love most of it (minus the documentation), but it all has some pressure behind it. A deadline. A standard.

So, on a Friday night, after eating dessert first, dinner, chores and time with the one I love, in the quiet dark and tucked in bed, I put my Air Pods in my ears and go on an unscripted mental journey of discovery.

“Which factory are you going to watch tonight?” she would say before she turned over to go to sleep. That’s when I used to watch how things were made. I’ve seen how they make crayons, paper, Legos, soccer balls, cardboard boxes and a whole bunch of other things. If I wasn’t a physical therapist, I might be involved in manufacturing. I’m fascinated by it.

But a few weeks ago, I stumbled on a few videos with titles like How Journaling Saved My Life and then another How to Take Back Control with Journaling and Writing Heals Your Brain. The surprising thing is most of these were filmed by Gen Z-ers, who are now between the ages 14-30.

These videos led me to others that talked about the notebooks people use, fine Japanese paper and people’s favorite pens. There is even a thing called Stationary Fest that I now want to attend in NYC next year. (I can only bottle up the nerd for so long before I let it out).

It seems the pendulum has swung the other way. The generation raised on the iPhone, touch screens and internet has found solace in a pen, paper, stickers and stamps. Analog is making a comeback and I am all for it.

I have kept a journal off and on since I was a kid, but most consistently since 2006. If you are a long time reader of this blog, then you know on January 1 of every year, I crack open a new pocket Moleskine notebook and write down my Evolution List (ways I am different from the last January 1). It’s a fun way to kick off a book that will then house thoughts and adventures of the year ahead. After my final entry on December 31, I put the book in a bin with all the others. That’s 20 years of history sitting in a box.

“Do you write or keep a journal?” I asked a patient yesterday. She had confided that she had no hobbies and felt uninspired.

“What on earth would I write about?” she asked. “Plus, I don’t want to write things down and then have somebody find it.”

I smiled. “But if they find it when you’re gone, don’t you think that would be such a gift to someone…to know how you really felt about things or who you really were? Wouldn’t you have loved to find something your mom wrote?”

She paused. “Well, yes. Now that I would love.” I’m not sure why she thought her kids would feel any differently.

Years ago, as I went through my parents basement to clean out the house I grew up in, I stumbled on a box of old albums. I opened one particular brown album. The sound of the pages cracking betrayed the time it had been since someone had perused its pages. In it were cards and love letters from my dad to my mom.

She was 14 and he was 16 when they first fell in love. It would be a decade before they made it through nursing and medical school and got married. I had no idea my dad was such a romantic. Those pages hold the hearts of two people who I had forgotten were teenagers at one point.

“My son just handed my wife and I some books titled ‘Tell Me Your Story’,” a friend said to me yesterday. His son is about to move to Florida. A big move for a young man who has always lived near home. “My wife got right on it,” he said, “but I have yet to start.”

I implored him to get started. I’m not sure if he felt like his life was unimportant or uninteresting. Ironically, he has documented and published books from oral histories given to him about mineralogists from the Keweenaw Peninsula. People were interested in knowing them. Why wouldn’t his son be interested in knowing him?

More and more, I feel the importance of writing something down. It doesn’t have to be elaborate or formal. I recommend you start with a book you can fill rather quickly like Field Notes, which are only 48 pages long. In fact, I just bought a bunch of them. I think I’m going to send them out to some people in my world.

I hope they fill the pages with ideas and thoughts. Lists and desires. What they thought about a local restaurant or a movie or a broadway musical. Anything.

And when the book is full, I hope they tuck it away, buy another one and write some more. And when they are gone, I hope someone they love finds it and it warms their heart with memories and discoveries of someone that meant the world to them.

I added a new journal to my journal ecosystem (that’s what stationary nerds call their collection of journals because nobody who is serious only has one book). My latest addition is a red A5 Moleskine hard cover journal. Inside the front cover, it reads:

10/6/26

Harlow,

One day, you’ll understand what it is like to immediately fall in love. Your heart will swell. Your smile will grow bigger. The sun shines brighter and a lot of things seem possible. That is how I felt about you, even before you were born. This book is my lifelong love letter to you. I’ll share my best wisdom, tell you about adventures, and fill you in on what I’ve learned about this world and how to navigate it. I love you now and always. – Lola

My granddaughter just turned a month old. I’ve filled 11 pages in the book so far, complete with some small pictures and stickers from places I visited. When it is all filled up, I’ll put it away and start another one. And one day, when she is old enough to appreciate it, I’ll give them to her. Maybe it will brighten her day or open her eyes to new adventures. Maybe it will just let her know I get how she feels and I’m there for her.

Maybe it will save her life.

Go and grab a notebook. Start writing things down. It doesn’t have to be fancy. It just has to be you. I promise, it will change your world.

It’s been a long week. Don’t forget to celebrate.

Until next time…