Can you change your life with just three minutes a day? I didn’t think so either. But let me tell you about the habit I introduced that not only saved me but also helped me rediscover joy, connection, and a whole lot of myself. It's embarrassingly simple, borderline cliché, but hear me out: I started journaling.

Yes, I know what you’re thinking. “Journaling? Like, dear diary scribbles from middle school?” Pretty much. Except now I use better pens and write about slightly more interesting things than why Laura didn’t text me back after we hung out at Second Beach. Although, spoiler: adult me is still sometimes journaling about why people don’t text back.

What started as an attempt to unwind became the habit that completely transformed my perspective on, well, everything. Let me rewind and show you how this small ritual worked its magic.

The Great Vancouver Fog—Inside and Out

A couple of years ago, I hit what I now call my “season of soggy socks.” You know the feeling—like everything is just damp and uncomfortable. That Vancouver winter had brought its endless drizzle, and my brain was mirroring the weather: gray and uninspired. Work deadlines felt heavier. Social plans felt harder. Conversations lacked depth, like they’d all shrunk in the wash.

I was stuck in a haze, playing the part of the deeply introspective main character in my own indie film, minus the cleverly curated soundtrack. On the outside, I was the same old Willow, making cappuccino foam hearts at my parents’ café and attending open mic nights at The Lido. But inside, I felt untethered, like someone had cut the strings that connected me to... myself.

Enter: my journal. Honestly, it wasn’t even my idea. I was issued the challenge/pep talk by a friend over $7 oat milk lattes. You know the type, that friend who somehow wakes up early on weekends “just for fun.” She said something like, “Writing helps me process everything—it’s like clearing out the junk drawer in my brain.” And because I was desperate (and mildly competitive), I bought a notebook on the way home.

Three-Minute Therapy: The Rules I Gave Myself

When I got home, I sat on my couch, staring at this pristine notebook as if it held the secrets of the universe. Except, at that particular moment, I was dehydrated, stressed about emails, and convinced I had no secrets worth documenting.

So, I created one rule: No pressure. I told myself I’d give journaling three minutes every day. Just three. Enough time for a single song to play in the background (honorable mention to Fleetwood Mac’s “Dreams”). The idea wasn’t to produce art; it was to take inventory of my moods, my thoughts, and honestly, the weird stuff I ate that day.

I started with wildly mundane details:
- “Rain again today. Thought about wearing my hiking boots to work and chickened out.”
- “Guy on the bus whistling Taylor Swift—oddly moving for 8:15 a.m.”
- “TBC coffee machine leaking again. Is it trying to tell me something??”

Day by day, that tiny habit grew legs. I began exploring bigger questions, like what I wanted out of relationships and why I kept repeating familiar cycles (cue dramatic underlining). Somehow, putting things down on paper stripped away their weight. A scribbled frustration about a canceled plan morphed into a realization: maybe I was investing too much energy in relationships that didn’t align with what I valued.

Journaling: Better (and Cheaper) than Astrology

Look, I still check my Co—Star app daily, but journaling unlocked a self-awareness that no algorithm ever could. It forced me to sit with my messy emotions, my contradictions, and all the bits of myself I politely side-eye most of the time.

Here’s where the magic really happened: The habit I thought was just personal therapy started to ripple into my everyday connections.

  1. I Got Way Better at Communicating
    Ever found yourself in an argument where you’re irrationally mad over something like the way someone squeezes toothpaste? Yeah, me too. Journaling gave me the space to spell out what I was feeling before accidentally weaponizing it in conversations. Turns out, the toothpaste was never the issue. (Shocking, I know.)

  2. I Became More Curious about Others
    Once I started asking myself better questions (“Why am I unsure about this friendship?” or “What do I really want from this weekend?”), I realized how seldom I went that deep with others. Journaling made me fall in love with curiosity—about myself and the people I care about. Conversations became richer. My ability to truly listen skyrocketed.

  3. I Stopped Playing the Supporting Role in My Own Life
    Light journaling quickly escalated into a kind of self-examination workout. One day, I realized how much energy I’d been pouring into trying to please everyone around me—holding space for others while neglecting my own boundaries. Literally writing out, “You deserve to take up space, Willow,” over and over (because yes, I am a repetitive mantra kind of person) gave me the courage to make braver choices.

How to Start Your Own Tiny (But Mighty) Habit

Here’s the thing: journaling doesn’t have to be beautiful, or daily, or even legible. Don’t let Instagram journaling influencers with their pristine layouts and calligraphy pens fool you into thinking this is a lifestyle you have to master. All you need is:

  • A Notebook You Don’t Feel Precious About: My current go-to is one I found in a Chinatown stationery shop for $3.50. (Bonus points for stickers.)
  • A Timer or Cue: I found my three-minute golden zone. Maybe yours is two. Maybe you tie it to your morning coffee or right before Netflix.
  • Permission to Be Imperfect: Sometimes my entries are a single sentence. A doodle alongside fragmented sentences works, too.

To make this habit your own, here are some prompts for when you’re feeling stuck:
- “One thing I learned about myself today…”
- “Something I wish I had the guts to say out loud…”
- “If my day were a playlist, it would include…”
- “A random good thing that happened” (because sometimes you need help seeing the good).

My Notebook, My Superpower

I still have days when my journal entries look like a transcript of brain static: “ugh... what even is today... pancake disappointing.” (Direct quote.) But on those days, the act of sitting with myself matters just as much as the words.

This tiny ritual of reflection is now my reset button. It’s portable, immune to Wi-Fi outages, and quietly brilliant at helping me navigate modern life’s complicated web of emotions and social dynamics. And honestly? I wish I’d started sooner.

So, here’s my one tip for when life feels soggy and gray: Find one small thing that gives your brain room to breathe. For me, those three minutes—and a pen that sometimes runs out of ink—saved me. Maybe they could do the same for you.