Embracing Messy & Inconsistent Journaling - Bullet Journal

Recently, my parents moved house and I received a stack of my old notebooks, kept safe in the attic of their garage for over a decade. As a teenager, I had journaled pretty much daily, keeping the notebook down the side of my bed, writing late into the night. I remember these books as my closest friends, somewhere I could express, analyse and confide. I remember the joy of coming home to write about a good day at school and the catharsis of feeling the pressure release as the details of a bad one spilled out from my mind and onto the page. There were several occasions that something momentous occurred in my life exactly as I reached the end of a journal, and I had the feeling that this was my own private happy ending, that the sequel would
Recently, my parents moved house and I received a stack of my old notebooks, kept safe in the attic of their garage for over a decade. As a teenager, I had journaled pretty much daily, keeping the notebook down the side of my bed, writing late into the night. I remember these books as my closest friends, somewhere I could express, analyse and confide. I remember the joy of coming home to write about a good day at school and the catharsis of feeling the pressure release as the details of a bad one spilled out from