Pandemic Journaling Part I: Reasons to Start Writing Today
Image of “Old Retro Antique” by DariuszSankowski via Pixabay.
Just three short months ago in September 2020, I found myself dangling on the edge of a metaphorical cliff, staring into a clouded chasm of physical and emotional exhaustion. Most nights, I could barely sleep. I began having sudden blackout spells. The stresses of 2020 had taken their toll, stretching me so thin that I felt translucent.
I’m not a stranger to the signs. When I was eighteen, I free-fell over that figurative edge, suffering a collapse so intense in body and mind that it took me until age twenty to begin recovering.
I knew I had to take action immediately, or history would repeat itself.
In addition to iron-clad sleeping, napping, and walking regimens, one of the first steps I took to build a recovery scaffolding was to scrawl my pen across the paper of my journal. Every. Single. Day.
I first entered into an on-again, off-again journaling practice at the beginning of 2009. Consistent writing became one of a handful of ways I coped with living across the country from my family, managing chronic (and at the time unnamed and undiagnosed) illness, juggling an intense college workload, and saying good-bye to my husband for long stretches of time as he was sent overseas. 2009 was one of the years he was sent away, and I remember chronicling the days -- one by one -- anxious for his return.
In time, journaling became a safe place to record everything from uninspired thoughts to tsunamis of emotions. It was a portable friend to confide in that was open, generous, and willing to listen whenever needed.
Image of “Study Literature” by congerdesign via Pixabay.
Today in 2020, my reasons for keeping a journal remain similar. The main difference now, however, is the lack of a clear “endpoint,” i.e. the finish line at the end of the marathon. In 2009, I had a rough estimate of when my husband would be home, plus or minus a handful of days. In 2020, we find ourselves asking on a global scale -- when will this end? And in truth, there may not be a definitive finale to COVID-19 so much as a gradual realignment closer to, but never the same as, life before the pandemic.
When discussing topics of journaling, whether that’s in a more traditional “dear diary” sort of sense or by other creative means, it’s critical to cast an eye on the conceptual art of On Kawara. Kawara created a decades-long series of date paintings (Today Series from 1966-2014) that not only chronicled his life but also the dates of major historical events. In addition, he made an entire body of work called I Got Up (1968 - 1979) which recorded his location and daily interactions with time.
Whether or not you’re a fan of conceptual art and a minimalist aesthetic, it’s difficult to deny the poetry in courageously leaving a daily record of your sacred life on planet Earth. I will record a small portion of today because I am a living, breathing, sentient being who had the privilege of getting up and experiencing this day. Thank you for the gift. And, here is my gift in return.
2007 was the first year my husband was sent away. At the time, I knew nothing of On Kawara’s work. However, I instinctively began a similar project as a coping strategy. Each day, I printed out the date (ex/ September 9th, 2007) on a slip of paper and wrote one small action I had taken that day -- no longer than a sentence or fragment. As the days passed, I tacked these strips of paper together, forming a long chain.
This chain was not only a record of my existence during a challenging period, but it became a visual representation of time passing. As the chain grew, the remaining time my husband and had to spend apart was shrinking. When I recall this project thirteen years later, it seems so simple and everyday. But at the time, I felt the exhilaration of scaling a mountain.
If you’re struggling with the cocktail of challenges 2020 has flung in your direction, you may also find beauty....release...rest...catharsis...perhaps even unmitigated joy in chronicling your day-to-day life. You can opt for a notebook (I love working with this and these), an online journal like Penzu, or an entirely different method of your choice. Again, revisit On Kawara’s work.
Here are the 4 main reasons why I keep a regular journaling practice going (and why you should, too):
Image of “woman walking on pathway during daytime” by Emma Simpson via Unsplash.
(1) A regular journaling practice has been linked to reducing stress and anxiety, as well as boosting the immune system.
When I was diagnosed with an autoimmune disease in 2011, it became non-negotiable; I absolutely made writing and journaling a part of my regular routine. For more information, check out this article by the American Psychological Association and this article by USA Today. And, as I’m sure you’re already aware, journaling is not a magic bullet to protect you from any sort of illness, nor is it a substitution for the care of licensed healthcare professionals.
Rather, compare consistent journaling to a sound exercise practice. With regular physical movement, you’re conditioning your body and mind to be stronger, more resilient, to push beyond your perceived limits, and to achieve greater levels of radiant health.
Consistent journaling can bring about similar benefits. While it doesn’t necessarily improve your overall physical fitness (perhaps with the exceptions of strengthening your forearms, wrists, and hands -- KAPOW!), it can focus your mind to navigate and release anxious thoughts in a healthy manner.
It’s also an excellent way to keep track of how you’re managing your health. For example, I sketch out miniature calendars in my journal and highlight the days where I maintain my goals for break times and sleep.
Image of “Woman Mysterious Traveler” by Victoria_Borodinova via Pixabay.
(2) Getting into the journaling habit is an effective way to metabolize the challenges you’re currently facing.
We’ve all heard about the mental health benefits linked to exercise. After a good workout, we typically experience a rush of mood-boosting endorphins, coupled with an unknotting of anxious energy. Journaling can produce a similar “clearing out the cobwebs” sort of experience.
For many of us this year, aspects of our lives that were once (semi-)compartmentalized (our jobs, our home life, the children’s school, etc.) have suddenly overflowed into each other. Many people find themselves on the frontlines of the pandemic, risking their lives to serve others -- whether a doctor, first responder, or grocery store worker. And, we’re all learning to cope with some degree of prolonged isolation.
Make the time and space to allow the cascade of fears, frustration, fatigue, and even fury to be released through writing or a similar chronicling process. These emotions will quiet their whirling through your worried mind, and release their grasp between the sinews of your tense muscles. They now have a place to live outside of you for a while.
And you have time to rest, allowing the debris clouding the river water of your life a chance to settle to the bottom, making room for crystal clarity.
(3) Consistent check-ins on the page can help create concrete markers of time passing.
I grew up in the Midwest -- specifically Iowa and Wisconsin, deep in the heart of America’s farmland. In that region as a whole, the passage of time is often understood in relationship to harvest cycles and clear seasonal changes. Autumn means a sudden cool snap in the air, while leaves shift to honey gold and beet-red magenta. Spring is marked by the first lime-green buds and grass blades poking through the permafrost.
Today (to my Midwestern eyes), my life in Southern California lacks similar signposts. Here, seasonal changes are far more subtle: overall the weather is warm, and most of the plants remain green year-round. Since March 2020, I’ve been working at the same desk at home, staring out the same window into the neighbor's backyard, and seeing the same palm fronds set against the same pale blue, usually cloudless sky. There are days where I feel like Bill Murray in Groundhog Day, living in a surreal world of suspended time.
When you begin tracking time through journaling or similar creative means, you can begin breaking free from that feeling of life on perpetual loop. Rewind back a few months, and you may find ways you’ve shifted your mindset and your daily habits to support what you needed then vs. what you’re requiring now. You’ll likely discover progress you’ve made, perhaps in your health, outlook on life, or creative practice -- progress that occurred behind the scenes but is more than enough cause for celebration!
Image of “Books Reading Pages” by Free-Photos via Pixabay.
(4) Journaling allows you to lay the groundwork of your individual place and experience in 2020’s historic moments, i.e. plant the seedlings of memoir.
There’s history we learn in textbooks that typically involves dates, locations, and the names of events and people involved. For example, like many school children living in the United States, I learned that the Great Depression was sparked by 1929’s stock market crash.
But, there’s history on a more personal level -- how major global or national events shaped the lives, experiences, and perspectives of everyday people such as you and me. When growing up as a young child, I received a far more comprehensive education on the Great Depression whenever I visited my grandmother’s basement. Tucked away in the spare closets, I found stashes of homemade preserves, spare clothing, and bulk packs of double-ply Quilted Northern to rival any well-stocked Costco. My grandmother spent countless years scrounging for daily essentials, and even as a senior citizen, she was intent on never experiencing that same scarcity again -- not if she could help it.
In 2020, we are new generations that have been asked to weather unprecedented historical events. Decades later, we may also find ourselves like my grandmother, still building personal fortresses of hand sanitizer, toilet paper, and non-perishables. Yet, as creatives in the heat of these moments, we have an obligation to record these events for generations to come. What were the tools we discovered that helped us overcome these challenges, both in our daily lives and beyond? How did we (eventually, hopefully) accomplish individual and communal healing?
To your health,