I hate journaling so, so, so much. It’s honestly so infuriating to see my timeline filled with these amazing pages of magazine cutouts, drawings, fabrics, and creative layouts. Anytime I see a new “inspo for journaling” Tik Tok something in me feels less than.
Let me start by saying I’ve always journaled, kept diaries, drawn and so on. This isn’t new territory for me by any means; however, it not only feels like I’m new to the world but also a tortoise entering a bunny’s race.
The antithesis of these feelings were actually Pinterest collage boards. I noticed that not only did the women creating these boards understand the feelings attributed to aesthetics but also the seasons and their own personal style. This collection of photographs, quotes, and colors fascinated me due to integration of trends and the fluidity of the collective’s likes and dislikes at the moment.
After going down this wormhole of pretty collages, I looked down at what I had created and noticed it was something more along the lines of post-its, doodles and incoherent scribbling. Don’t worry though—an occasional pop of color appeared in the form of a highlighter. I was, let’s just say, slightly disappointed.
Over time this disappointment manifested into a creative drought. I think I wasn’t even able to draw an attractive circle for over a month. My messy disorganized journal turned into a blank sad blob of nothing. All I could do was look at these perfectly crafted collages and think, “Wow, I am not creative at all.” I hadn’t even gotten to the journal Tik Toks yet. When I did, a deep rooted feeling of inferiority occurred yet again. Same rabbit hole, same perfection, same personal style, it was this incredible dump of a person’s mind into the physical realm.
Again I looked over at my journal and felt like I wasn’t good enough to be journaling. I will say this now, that is the stupidest thought ever. Overtime I have learned to regulate the emotion of inferiority, how? No clue, but I’ve learned to slowly appreciate my brain. Maybe it isn’t filled with images and colors, but it’s filled with words, and that is who I am. I am an overthinker to my core, an analyst of what is around me and an avid reader who loves inner monologue.
My journal is my inner monologue. My journal is the thoughts circulating my brain, the worries, the fears, and even the excitements of mundane life. So if my journal is filled to the brim with mumbo jumbo it’s because that’s my mumbo jumbo.
So yes, maybe journaling isn’t fun when you’re comparing your work and creative outlet to someone else’s. Trust me, I still get frustrated when I can’t naturally be creative, when I feel like I have to force myself to be something. It’s not easy to feel free sometimes and that’s okay. I’m learning as I go. What I can say, however, is that journaling has let the innermost thoughts of my brain run free which is why I continue frustrating myself.