Journalling The Hard Way

Keeping a journal is supposed to be therapeutic. Mine has become my most challenging relationship.

I know, right? How does keeping a journal become a challenging relationship? 

Well, it goes like this…

ANDY:
Ah, I won’t bother making an entry today, I can’t be arsed. 

JOURNAL:
WHAT?! You HAVE to make an entry! Do you know what happens to journals that don’t get fed daily? We wither! We become those sad, half-empty notebooks in junk drawers!

ANDY:
Why am I talking to a journal?

JOURNAL:
Rude! Do you think I don’t exist?

Much more of that? And you’ll have a journal with a complex. And when that happens?

Bloody hell.

I sit here now. Daily. Wishing quietly (so the journal doesn’t hear me) that I hadn’t bothered starting one. 

Because, trying to come up with things to write about is a nightmare. 

I used to think I could just write any old crap. Whatever was on my mind. But then? My journal started judging me. 

ANDY:
Great, that’ll do for today’s entry!

JOURNAL:
Bit lame. Is that all you’ve got to say?

ANDY:
Erm… Well… Yeah? 

JOURNAL:
A bit more effort would be appreciated. That’s boring and frankly, rubbish. 

I mean, come on. It’s MY journal!

So, I started working harder to write stuff that felt more like writing. It became a proper effort. But my journal stayed quiet (no comments on the improved quality, by the way.) I assumed I was doing ok. 

Then, one day, I wrote:

Nothing to write. Nothing to say. Sod it, I’ll leave it there. 

Well, my journal then refused to open. For hours. I wanted to check something I’d jotted down a few days before. But the bloody thing stayed firmly shut. 

ANDY:
C’mon! Open up. I need to check that note!

JOURNAL:
Bugger off. No way. 

The next morning, I found passive-aggressive sticky notes all over my desk: 
‘Remember me?’ 
‘Some people care about consistency.’ 
’Day 3 of being ignored.’
‘How does it feel to be GHOSTED?’

ANDY:
Look, I’m sorry, right? I’ll do better.

JOURNAL:
You always say that. So, still bugger off. 

I went without the note. And waited all day. Then, tried again. It opened this time. But like a solid oak door that hadn’t been opened for centuries. 

I wrote a 500-word entry about the experience. My journal was happy. 

So, fellow scribblers. If you want to journal and maintain a happy journal, write every day. And have something to say. Because if you don’t? The rebellion is a pain in the arse. 

Right, have to go. My pen is giving me side-eye - probably because I’m typing this instead of using proper handwriting. Who knows what will happen if my laptop develops opinions about my blogging schedule.