The Habit That Saved Me
There’s a Chinese proverb that says, “Dripping water wears through stone.” It’s the poetic way of saying that big changes often come from the smallest, most consistent efforts. But before you picture me gracefully pouring tea in a flowing silk robe, let me confess: my stone was my messy, overthinking mind, and the water was… journaling.
No, I’m not talking about those clunky diary entries we all wrote in middle school with sparkly gel pens (though bonus points if you still have one). I mean a deliberate, thoughtful habit of putting pen to paper—or fingers to keyboard—and letting the steady stream of my thoughts flow. Spoiler alert: It saved my sanity, my ability to build meaningful relationships, and, unexpectedly, my romance life too.
The Epiphany You Don’t See Coming
It started after a breakup. Not one of those cinematic, cry-in-the-rain kind of breakups, but the unremarkable, painfully slow kind where two people drift apart like continents splitting. No volcanic eruptions. Just tectonic plates sliding in opposite directions while you pretend everything’s fine.
I found myself replaying our time together like a Netflix series I couldn’t stop rewatching, except this version didn’t have subtitles, and I had no clue why the plot turned out the way it did. Was I too needy? Was he too indifferent? Did I kill the romance by insisting we watch period dramas together? (Okay, that one might be partially on me.)
After spending an embarrassing number of mornings analyzing texts like they were ancient scripts unearthed from the Tang Dynasty, something snapped. My indulgent spiral of overthinking wasn’t helping; it was turning me into my very own unreliable narrator. I needed clarity, and honestly, I also needed some quiet. That’s when I picked up a notebook.
At first, it wasn’t pretty. I scribbled down whatever came to mind: frustrations, questions, memories. But soon, I realized I wasn’t just venting—I was discovering myself.
Why Journaling Works Better Than Gossip Sessions (Or Ice Cream)
Talking to friends can be great for processing emotions, but there’s only so much you can spill before you notice the frozen, glazed-over look of someone who’s heard the same three stories on repeat. And sure, comfort food is delightful in the moment, but it doesn’t help you untangle why the same patterns keep showing up in your life—or why the cute guy from Pilates ghosted you after three flawless dates.
Here’s what journaling gives you that no Ben & Jerry’s flavor can: self-awareness. Writing forces you to put your thoughts into words, and in doing so, you slow down enough to really hear yourself. That’s when connections start to form—the kind that won’t ditch you mid-conversation or melt in the microwave.
Within weeks of establishing my journaling habit, patterns I’d been ignoring for years started to emerge. I realized I’d been saying “yes” to things I really didn’t want, like attending his work events where I felt out of place. I saw how my fear of being vulnerable kept me from asking for what I truly needed in relationships. And somewhere in there, I rediscovered parts of myself I’d forgotten—like the girl who used to write lyrics to sad pop songs in high school and thought the world could be captured in metaphors.
Not a Diary, But a Dialogue
The secret to journaling is treating it like a conversation with an old friend, not an essay assignment for English class. You don’t need perfect grammar or artistic calligraphy; you just need honesty—messy, raw, real honesty.
A few prompts can help if staring at a blank page makes your palms sweat. Try these:
- “What’s one thing I’m scared to admit right now?”
- “What is this situation trying to teach me?”
- “If I could redo one moment, what would it be, and why?”
Don’t worry about having all the answers. Half the magic is in asking the questions.
How Journaling Transformed My Relationships
Once I started digging into my own thoughts, my relationships—platonic, romantic, and otherwise—began to shift in surprising ways. For one, I stopped playing therapist to every crush, friend, and coworker who couldn’t keep their life together. I realized that, while I loved being there for people, I sometimes used their problems as an excuse to avoid looking at my own.
Boundaries. Who knew they could be so… sexy?
More importantly, journaling helped me show up fully in my next relationship. Instead of hiding my quirks (the fact that I geek out over Chinese opera, for instance, or collect old postcards—don’t ask), I led with them. Vulnerability is terrifying, yes. But also? It’s electric. It’s what makes someone lean in instead of check their phone during your stories. And let me tell you—from experience—that connection feels infinitely better than stuffing your personality into a more “palatable” version of yourself.
The Habit, Simplified
So, how do you start saving your life one sentence at a time without turning it into a chore? Here’s what worked for me:
- Keep It Simple. You don’t need half an hour. Even five minutes works—think of it as a mini mental detox.
- Find Your Spot. I rotate between my kitchen counter and a cozy corner of my couch, depending on my mood. Both feel comfortable but not too distracting.
- Be Consistent (Kind Of). You don’t have to write every day. I aim for three to four times a week because burnout is very 2015.
- Try Different Tools. I started with a notebook but slowly shifted to typing because I’m faster that way. Explore and see what suits you best.
- Forgive Yourself. Some entries will be total nonsense. That’s okay. Journaling isn’t about creating greatness; it’s about creating space.
The Moment It All Clicked
One rainy Beijing evening—pouring rain, actual cinematic level—I reread one of my old entries from the breakup era. What struck me wasn’t how lost I’d been but how far I’d come. I was no longer dissecting cryptic texts or trying to reach impossible standards. I was simply me: perfectly flawed, deeply curious, utterly human.
And that’s when I knew: the habit that saved me didn’t just fix my problems. It gave me the tools to stop waiting for people or circumstances to fill the gaps in my life. It reminded me that self-discovery isn’t just a phase—it’s a lifelong romance.
So, from one messy, evolving work-in-progress to another: start writing. You might just save yourself, too.
