Why journaling has been the most powerful act of self-therapy I’ve ever known
I’m 34 years old, and I’ve had a therapist for over half my life. But not the kind you might imagine. This therapist doesn’t sit across from me on a couch. It doesn’t speak back. It doesn’t hand me tissues or offer advice. My therapist is quieter, always present, and unflinchingly honest. My therapist is my journal.
The Beginning: 16 and Silenced
I started writing when I was 16—alone, confused, and overwhelmed. There was no one to talk to. Not really. Not about the things that mattered. In my world, emotional check-ins didn’t exist. Therapy was not part of our vocabulary. My culture didn’t encourage conversations about feelings—especially not with adults. Parents were protectors, yes—but mainly of our physical needs, not our emotional ones. You didn’t cry. You coped. Alone.
So, I began to write.
At first, it was a release—an emotional dumping ground. Pages filled with misunderstood teenage thoughts, with no expectation of being seen or validated. But slowly, those pages became something more than just words. They became a space where I could finally hear myself.
The Journey Inward
Eighteen years later, that act of putting pen to paper has grown into a sacred ritual—one that has shaped every part of who I am. Through journaling, I have come to know my traumas, my triggers, my strengths, my shadows. It gave me a safe place to unpack the “why” behind my actions, my fears, and my beliefs. It became a mirror—unfiltered and raw—where I met myself again and again. And with time, I stopped writing to survive. I started writing to understand.
The Healing Power of Reflection
It’s easy to look around and see people operating from wounds they haven’t acknowledged. We often react, repeat, and retreat without knowing why. That’s the thing—our behaviours are so often shaped by unspoken experiences. But when you sit with yourself on paper, you start connecting the dots. You recognise the patterns. You name the pain. And in doing so, you begin to heal. You begin to change.
I learned to hold space for myself. To honour my younger self. To forgive. To release. To grow.
And perhaps most powerfully—I learned to understand others more deeply. Because when you’ve done the inner work, you stop projecting. You start empathising.
I’m Still Becoming
This journey is far from over. There are still questions I can’t answer, wounds I’m still tending to. But now I walk with clarity and a strong sense of self. I know who I am. I know who I’m not. I know who I want to become. And that began with a single journal.
If You’re Reading This…
Let this be your sign to begin. Healing doesn’t have to start in a therapist’s office. Sometimes, it starts with a pen, a quiet moment, and the courage to tell yourself the truth.
Write your story. Even if it feels messy or meaningless at first. You’re not just recording your life—you’re reclaiming it.
Journaling changed mine. And I believe it can change yours too.
Until next time!
Nobody but Somebody x
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