If I can write in a journal, can I write in a blog?

I just finished my last journal entry in my previous journal yesterday. It’s hell of awesome, and I’m super proud—this past two years I’ve done an order of magnitude more journal writing than in my previous 33 years!

To me, the best part is the solidity of my journaling habit. Many weeks I journaled every day, or a good 6 outta 7. And, even when I missed a few days of journaling, or even a whole week, I always came back to it. Gaining a solid habit is a good, empowering feeling.

My next step in developing my writing habits? Well, doy, it’s writing on this ol’ platform, silly! I’m giving myself at least a month to try this out unevenly before putting it in my habit tracker. And, I’m striving for writing in my blog once a day—not publishing one post a day. I’m only human, after all. A human with severe writing anxiety who’s inexplicably managed to write a decent amount of page-age nevertheless, but still …

Welp, luckily my readership is miniscule if even extant, and expectations are lower than current interest rates. Sorry if you’re Fed up with my dumb references.

Journaling, the benefits of …

And it’s been almost two years, eh? Is blogging not for me, or something?

Well, I’ll tell ya what *is* for me, buddy: journaling. Since my last post here, back I’m August ‘19, I’ve started a journal—and almost filled in the whole damn thing! Which, to me, is hella impressive: for most of my life, I’ve been almost as bad at consistent journaling as I am at consistent blogging.

Well, I am now a certified journalist! By which I clearly do not mean certifications in journalism; rather, I’ve been able to keep up a journal for almost two whole years. There may have been weeks where I only had a scant journal entry or two. But, for each of those stretches, I’ve had weeks where I’ve filled in an entry (almost) every day. I’m proud—damn ass hell PROUD—that I’ve made this a habit.

My life is better on the whole than it was two years ago. At the least, it’s a good deal *deeper*. Maybe not happier all the time, but definitely deeper. And I’m fairly sure that I have journaling to thank! At the very least, now I have a record of what my life was like the last two years.

Hey, that’s nothing to sneeze at, is it? I kept a record of life through COVID. Some day, this journal will be mildly interesting to at least a handful of people belides myself. Or, even if not granting my delusions of future relevance, at least I can look back at the past someday and check my gauzy-eyed nostalgia. I can get real about how I was in my mid-30’s, rather than pretending like my old-ass future self still remembers this accurately. And hey, if that’s not a good reason to keep a journal, I don’t know HWAT is. Well, maybe expressing emotions in writing is good, too—I GUESS.