My “Blogger’s Journal” which was given to me two years ago by my sister Pia, a nurse who is based in the U.K. Almost three years into the pandemic, I still find it difficult to adapt to the new normal. Since then, I have had anxiety levels soaring way up—far beyond my reach. I have searched for a handful of ways to cope with anxiety. I have discovered that journal writing does the work, hands down.
Getting A Grip of Myself
The pandemic has reduced many, if not most of us to a mere hand-me-down —a remnant of the old life from 2019. Often our fears get way out of hand; they interfere with our way of life.
In my case, I would sometimes wake up scared, without any idea whatsoever as to what set it off. There was even a time last year when every day, I would feel so distressed. I was constantly looking over my shoulder for an impending danger.
Then one day, I decided to get a grip of myself; I thought paranoia should not get to me. I made an effort to conquer my fears. I took hold of my passion. I obliged myself to write. I decided to take matters into my own hands, so to speak.
Reducing Anxiety (in)to Pulp
I believe that any form of writing is a big way of responding to daily toxic situations.
In my case, it took the form of journal writing. I have always kept a journal; a habit I got from when I was younger.
For me, the best thing about writing in a journal is that I can write without having to edit myself. I can either scribble one word, to sum up my day or write continuously filling up the entire space without lifting my pen from the page. Sometimes, when I have so much in mind, I just keep on writing —even filling out the page allocated for the next day’s entry.
When I am afraid, I write. When I feel scared, I write. When I am lonely, I write. When I am inspired—yes, especially when I am inspired, I write. Writing in my journal reduces my panic attacks. Whatever it is I am feeling, I pull my journal straight out and write.
I usually write down all the stressors in my life-whether it be a who or a what. As I see them in print, I realize that they might not be as problematic as I think they are. I enumerate them from bad to worst. I then address them one after another, one day at a time. In that way, it gives me a bit of breathing space rather than tackle them all together which proves to be so overwhelming.
Here’s a recent entry, prior to publishing my post.(the stickers I got from https://s.lazada.com.ph/s.3eCwy )In Good Hands
There are also times despite being surrounded by love ones, I feel alone. I need someone to listen to me without judgment and unsolicited pieces of advice. However, there are also things I keep to myself which I cannot share with others. This is why when I began the habit of journal writing when I was in grade 4, I gave it a name. My journal is “the other person” with whom I shared all my thoughts. It has a name, Alej ( read as Ali). Alej is shortened from the name Alejandra. ( I might have already mentioned this in my old posts).
It was the name of my maternal great-grandmother whom I was supposed to have been named after. But it was scrapped because my mother was a great fan of the ‘50s Hollywood Italian actress “Pier Angeli”———(idolatry ruled over consanguinity).
Besides, I think I am more of a Pier Angeli than an Alejandra.
Despite not having named me Alejandra, my mother still liked that name. So, she suggested I name my journal that. Thus, my journal entries would not start with the usual ” dear diary” but instead with “Dear Alej”. Alej became this “confidante” who listens to me all day.
My journal might not be family but Alej is an extension of me. She is both nemesis and ally in my “thinking alone” time. She is this person with whom I shared my anxieties. She is there on a daily, weekly, or monthly basis. She is privy to all my thoughts. She is readily available. She knows me like the back of her hand.
Hand to Hand Combat
Gone were the days when a handshake was commonplace. And should our hands accidentally touch –discomfort, dread, and disinfectant immediately proceeds it. This pandemic is an act of war which somehow proved that our hands are powerful. It can only be defeated not only by wielding the power of our folded hands ( of course) but our creative ones, as well.
Journal writing made me get by my anxiety, even so that I have a friend and ally in “Alej”. It of course helped that I have a name for my journal.
Post Script: We would most likely have different types of writing styles and personalities. Make sure to get a journal that fits yours. After all, your journal would be your confidante (your frenemy, both ally and nemesis).
In my case I have this “ A Blogger’s Journal” which was given to me by my sister Pia, a nurse who is based in the U.K.
