Begin. Again.

I have this compulsion to start journals.

there’s something about the freshness of the page? You feel like YES this is NEW and FRESH and lovely! But then inevitably it falls off because you get busy or distracted.
and then I feel guilty, cause I didn’t do the thing I said I would, because the trouble with a physical journal is that it’s a promise in and of itself – you are going to fill these blank pages.
Instead they just… sit there. Empty except for the first few pages.

so maybe I need to step away from goals. Maybe it just needs to be a thing where I promise to write the next one or just to finish this one. Maybe it’s a habit that when I started I wasn’t actually ready to embrace?

I don’t know. But I’m trying again. And there’s something really beautiful in that.

All you can do is try. I know that’s what I’m doing here.

MS C

I could have written this same post! Always starting new journals and never actually being consistent enough for it to have any meaning. But we continue to try again. why is the ultimate answer – perhaps so we feel listened to? perhaps so our minds seem quieter? perhaps so we can try to remember our lives that quickly get erased by the business that is life? Who cares what the answer is. It is what it is!