On The Worst Day of Your Life, Journaling Changes Everything.
It’s hard to argue with the fact that life can be devastating sometimes, more often difficult and most times, seemingly unfair. Life isn’t easy. That’s why we’re so comfortable. We’re choosing the other way. We choose to see any sort of a obstacle, difficulty and uncertainty, as a deflection to live within our comfortzone, live in fear and always be on that constant dopamine chase.
That’s how we accept life. And that’s why we continue to live in that bubble. Life is hard. I have lived in the deepest of darkest depressions. I have lived with crippling anxiety. I made choices in my life with the idea that I can’t make my dreams come true because I’m not good enough with the better part of a few years. But at the end of the day, what I told myself when I looked in the mirror, was what always mattered. And when I told myself this was it, I believed myself.
But hindsight is very beautiful thing. Because, more than likely, you have had these feelings before. The circumstances were different, but the thought process and the mindset were the same. History always repeats itself and you go through it over and over again.
Journaling has been my medicine. For one thing, it gives you clarity. Second, you will learn about gratitude, whether you realize or not. I’ll give three such examples, parts of my journal, of dooming uncertainty and catastrophe, with a little hindsight to follow.
May 28, 2017 – The day after my bike accident
I’m in this nightmare. I hope I am. I hope I’m about to wake up any second now. I hope the unbearable pain coming from my broken knee cap will be a dream I soon forget 5 seconds after hitting snooze. I hope this freak accident isn’t some form of bullshit karma the universe thinks I deserve in some sick twisted faith. This nightmare is real. Fuck my life. I get hit by a flying bulldozer in the shape of speeding biker. Fuck you universe.
In hindsight: Well, it was a sick twist of faith, but the kind that tuned the worst day of my life into to the best thing that ever happen to me. It was just one those beautiful defining moments that force you to choose to either: become something extraordinary and chose not to let your circumstance define your character or play victim, and continue building a pattern of entitlement. The moment I got hit that day and woke up in an ambulance, was the beginning of tiny stone dropped into a pond and ever moment after was the rippling effects of how I changed me life. That’s perspective.
March 17, 2018 — A year after my accident, falling into a deep depression
I think more about it. I just want to end it. I can’t faced the world. Today was especially hard. I feel trapped. This feeling I’m starting to have in the pit of my stomach — somedays, I feel it more. Today I feel it. It’s regret I think. I just want to end it. I just want that feeling of having the first draft of a manuscript done. That’s all. Not even the finished copy, just the first draft. Why can’t I make that happen. I don’t want to feel like this anymore. I just want to end it.
In hindsight: I cherish my rockbottom moment. The moment I was rendered without options. That’s the moment I couldn’t accept it anymore. That was the moment I chose to go the other way: into uncertainty, into all my fears. Because the other option has no take-backs. I honour my rockbottom moment. Nobody can ever take that away from me.
June 7, 2019 — First month working into my second draft.
I feel dizzy. I don’t know how I’m going to do this. It’s been three days and I can’t seem to focus. I have to figure out how to reconstruct this entire chapter and I don’t think I can do it. My brain doesn’t want to fucking work. What the fuck. I won’t be able to finish this book. Fuck, I’ve already spend over ten thousand dollars on it, and I’m not going to finish it. My anxiety is getting the better part of me right now. I’m going to disappoint my editor. She will think I’m a joke. What is wrong with me!
In hindsight: Writing a book is a mother-fucking process. And I fucking did it. I wrote the book. Everything is a process.. That process will take another level of you to push through. I look back and read those journal entries and I’m blown away, first thinking about the fact that I had already gone to Costa Rica, wrote the book, signed a contract with an editor and I can still tell myself that I won’t do it, and yes I believed myself, and then simply acknowledging that I was able to get from there to where I am now. Because I knew my WHY. And when you know you’re why, you will ve able to handle the hard times. That’s power. I still have those moments but looking back at what I have accomplished, this doesn’t just give me a little more perspective on how I can look at my current struggles, but instant gratitude. That open’s up some serious space in your energetic field.
Now to be fair: Getting into a bike collision, living with depression and working through a life-changing project aren’t easy feats, and for some people, it’s too much to bare. But this is the way what to open up your lens and look inside how you brain and mind work. We are deigned to survive, not thrive. Journaling has been that factor into changing the narrative my brain has followed.