I stopped writing in a diary at about 16 years old. According to Oprah, she has always kept a diary. Always. Thinking this was the key to her success, I decided to give it a shot. Why should I squander all my brilliant ideas because I am too lazy to write them down? Reluctantly, I began to scribble a few lines in a notebook but never got serious. Time passed and I forgot all about it.
Years later, at a point when I thought my life and career were stagnating, I began searching for a way to get back on track. I had no interest in traditional psychotherapy which costs thousands and takes years. So, I did the only thing a busy, seemingly normal person might do. I bought one of those pop psychology-in-a-box programs which explained it was possible to improve myself without all the fuss. Essentially, that appealed to me because it seemed simple and painless. Besides, I wasn’t twisted or anything so all I really needed was a psychological Band-Aid. A daily boost -if you will.
Every self-help guru out there suggested keeping a journal. Now for those of us who weren’t born yesterday, a journal is just a fancy name for a diary. Oh no. Not again. The problem is you can’t keep just ONE journal. You need one for things like gratitude, innermost feelings and a third-party narrative (I’ll explain later). The list is endless. One book even suggested a miscellaneous journal to record whatever was not covered in the other journals. Whew!
To avoid becoming overwhelmed, I started with a gratitude journal. The idea is to list five things for which you are grateful every day. Every. Day. The first week was easy. Then reality hit. Pretty soon I ran out of things to say. Don’t get me wrong. There are plenty of things for which I am thankful but grew concerned when I began repeating myself. What if someone else read my journal? Eventually I began asking friends and acquaintances what they wrote in theirs.
Today I am thankful for the opportunity to read Annie’s journal. It provided dozens of ideas for things I should be thankful for in the future.
Now I was thankful I only had to think of four more. Awesome! For a minute I thought I was going to have to start a journal to record why I was un-grateful. Crisis averted.
The second journal was about my innermost feelings. It was a flowery narrative in which I was virtuous and selfless, capable of anything and everything my little heart desired. I drew little hearts on the pages where I quoted people like Einstein and Coco Chanel. It was ridiculous and I soon lost interest in this approach.
In the next journal, I scripted my activities, feelings, hopes and dreams in a third person narrative. Instead of saying, I did so-and-so, you write as if you were viewing your life from outside yourself; i.e., she (you) did so-and-so. The premise behind this journal type is to provide objectivity. By referring to ME as HER, you are supposed to be able to guide this third person along the path she should follow. So much for that idea! Eventually I began to see HER as a threat to ME. By the time I got around to recording in this third journal, I was wasted. That self-absorbed wench in journal #2 had stolen all my thunder. I had no original thoughts left. It was pathetic.
I became so consumed with what I was going to write I lost the ability to function in the real world. One day I told my best friend I didn’t have time to talk to her because I was behind in my journals. The house was a mess. Personal hygiene went out the window. I forgot to feed the dog and she ran away (not really). My husband left me for a non-journalizing woman. (I’m not married. But if I was, he would have left me). Anyway, soon I was alone. No family, no friends, no pets. Ok. I’m exaggerating, but it was not good.
There were no drugs to help me. No hotline to call when I felt the uncontrollable urge to record my thoughts. The sheer volume of my writing rivaled the 942 quatrains of Nostradamus. I knew that if I didn’t stop, Geraldo! was going to bring a bulldozer through my house to see if there were any hidden journals in the walls. That alone scared me to death. Eventually, I stopped cold turkey.
You can benefit from my pain. As the first person in recorded history to overcome this affliction, I assure you it is possible to escape the prison of self-improvement.
You CAN stop journaling
You CAN take back your life
You CAN return to your formerly unenlightened self
This, however, cannot be accomplished overnight or without significant financial commitment. Because I care so much about your well-being, I’ve created a 12-step program customized just for you. It is available through an online subscription at the introductory price of $29.95 a month for a 36-month non-refundable totally worthless journey to recovery. It won’t get you anywhere, but at least there is no journal required.
Note: If you are disappointed that no such program really exists, perhaps you SHOULD start a journal to analyze why you are so gullible.
