Why (& how) I Journal

Do you ever get that crushing, breath snatching, terrifying feeling that your life as you know it is suddenly over and you are overwhelmed with doubt at how you could possibly go on? Maybe you've just had your heartbroken, received some bad news about a loved one, missed out on your dream job or maybe it's not that extreme and what brings on this well of pessimism is simply the fact you've had to pay £4 for a slice of cake in a cafe. Whatever factors may be at work, I know whoever is reading this HAS, many times in their life, felt tne feeling i'm describing. It's an inescapable part of the human condition. Whenever I fall prey to this relentless beast, there are a few lifelines that pull me from the fever dream. It was the literary genius that is Sylvia Plath who said 'There must be quite a few things a hot bath won't cure, but I don't know many of them' which brings to my first saviour: water. Water in any form is acceptable. From rehydrating yourself with a cup of lemon water, giving you the 'that girl' bolster to an ugly cry in the shower or a scalding bubble bath with all the scented candles one's inner Bridget Jones could possibly desire. Water is a soothing entity. It cleanses you and gives you the feeling of it washing away all your bad thoughts along with the running shampoo. Sometimes we crave that feeling of being restarted and water does this routinely impeccably well. Of course food is the next lifeline. Specific foods have been found to have better effects than others (me et al...my other personalities). Nothing in the world makes me happier than a massive bowl of spicy, tomato rigatoni. My gluten senstivity may have differing opinions but mind over matter. Lentil Dhal and vegan sausages with lots of peas, mash and gravy are other contenders who temporarily take the place of a cuddle. Sometimes I like the satisfaction of having looked after myself and been a 'real adult' by making a meal from scratch in the intention of nourishing myself however, if i'm in a place where I feel like I want to be looked after then I wont fight this and i'll call up a close friend and cook with them. Eating is an unmatched source of serotonin. Chiefly though, what helps get me through all troubles I face has always been words. Writing provides a liberation I envy when my pen isn't in my fingers or my hands on my keyboard. At times I feel like its the true love of my life. The most cathartic form of writing is malleable, it will swap from poetry to short stories to blogs to letters, reflective essays, half attempted scripts, the most awful lyrics I assure you've ever seen in your life, chaotic notes in my phone, the works. What's been prevailing lately has been journalling. It started as a suggestion from a new housemate one day and half on a bid to forage a friendship out of her I took myself to town and returned home with a baby pink, soft textured journal. A journal that inspires feelings vaguely resembling joy is always my first tip in the writing game. If you have a journal that doesn't excite you then you'll very infrequently find yourself writing in it. It can be a frightening concept to a lot of people because they think they have to do it 'right'. What I mean by this is follow a structure The way I see it: Poetry can be out of Iambic Pentameter and it's still considered a cherished art form, right? I have never once started an entry with 'Dear Diary' in fact, sometimes my entries will be a few sentences long and not mention a date or anything. I like to imagine sometimes I'm just talking to a super close friend so I may launch into the writing session with something along of the lines 'holy f***ing shit'. That being said, it might actually help you to give your journal a name and treat it like a mate. This also sorts out the fear of how to start as you'll always have your 'in'. It's important to remember its for your eyes only and even then, that only needs to extend to at that moment in time when you are physically forming the words on the page...and perhaps in 40 years time when you find an old journal in the attic one day and flip throug it with your wrinkled hands, laughing at the all things you used to find troubling in your 20s. As soon as you dump out everything in your brain (don't feel embarrassed if this is 9 pages worth of content one day and half a paragraph the next)you should feel a lot better. We get so much clutter and build up in there as much as chatting may help, or sending dissertation length texts, nothing truly 'empties' and resets my thoughts quite like an aggressive journalling session. I'll keep you posted on my journalling journey via my insta (@theverseofvenus) and hope this inspires someone to begin or tap back into their own.