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Where Do I Start? Journaling for Overthinkers and Beginners

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Journaling is often recommended as a tool for healing, clarity, and self-awareness. And yet, for many people, especially overthinkers, the idea of starting a journal feels overwhelming. What do I write? Am I doing this right? What if I don’t know how I feel? If you’ve ever opened a notebook, stared at a blank page, and closed it again, you’re not alone. As a certified journal therapist, I’ve noticed that most people don’t avoid journaling because they don’t want to reflect; they avoid it because no one ever taught them how to begin safely . Why Journaling Matters Journaling isn’t about writing well. It’s about listening. When thoughts stay in our heads, they loop, overlap, and grow louder. Writing slows the mind down. It gives emotions somewhere to land. It creates space between what you’re experiencing and who you are. Over time, journaling helps you: Process emotions instead of suppressing them Notice patterns in thoughts, relationships, and behavior Build self-trust and emotional aw...
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Breaking Where No One Looks

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Imagine cracking on the inside and it never been noticed. You cry during emotional moments as expected But the tears have nothing to do with what’s happening. They belong to something older, something waiting. Pain breaks like a levee So what’s really hurting slips past unseen. Everyone expects so much from you, yet rarely considers you. They tell you what they think you want to hear, But you can feel when words are hollow. It hurts to listen while knowing These are lies, manipulation, future faking, love bombing dressed as care. Partners do it. Friends do it. They all do. When someone wants something, They perform. And you know the game. Knowing is the wound. Because in seeing them clearly, It hurts more You wanted to believe They were better people. Every tear carries a story past, present, future sliding down supple cheeks, soaking into fabric, leaving stains of memory until they dry. And then there’s the smile. You hide behind walls, afraid your true expression might escape But her...
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When Empathy Arrives Late

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  Back in February, I came across a video of Sherri Shepherd crying while defending Tyra Banks. The video surfaced amid renewed backlash over America’s Next Top Model and the way contestants were treated on the show. Watching the documentary myself, I was floored. Not because the criticism felt exaggerated, but because it confirmed what many of us sensed even back then and didn’t yet have language for. As a teenager, I loved America’s Next Top Model . I wanted to be on it. That dream was eventually crushed, deliberately and cruelly, by a family that never supported it. At the time, it felt devastating. Looking back now, I see it differently. I wasn’t protected from disappointment; I was protected from an industry I wasn’t ready for. So when I saw Sherri’s emotional defense of Tyra, my first thought wasn’t judgment; it was context. She was responding from the inside. She is a host. She knows the pressure. She understands how chaotic and unforgiving those environments can be. Her ow...
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Cracking the Code

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Last month, during an afternoon nap, I began to dream. At first, I didn’t realize I was dreaming, because like so many of my dreams, it felt real. Not symbolic in the way we often dismiss dreams, but vivid, immersive, and detailed. I was moving through what felt like stages of my life, almost as if I were navigating levels in a game. Each stage carried an element of danger. In order to escape, I had to pay attention. I had to listen closely to the clues being given. I had to notice what I might otherwise overlook. Only then could I crack the code and be transported to the next level. The settings were familiar: my childhood hometown, vacations I’ve taken, stores I’ve visited, places that once held meaning. Each location felt intentional, as if my subconscious were drawing on my own history to teach me something I hadn’t yet integrated. And for a while, I was successful. I passed level after level. But before I woke up, there was one stage I couldn’t get through. I kept looping. The sa...
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