Moving Forward
All week, my daughter and I have been driving across the country—from the Lake Tahoe area in Nevada, all through the southern states, and finally to the East Coast—until we arrived at our new home in North Carolina. The entire drive, my mind kept circling one thing: this new resolution, this honest life, this decision to live differently… whatever you want to call it.
My challenge this week was to journal every day. Journaling is supposed to be really good for you. It helps you share things in confidence, it's sometimes a path to self discovery, and it is considered an act of self care. There have been studies, as well as testimonials from highly successful people that journaling makes a real difference in mental health and well being. General guidelines to begin are as follows:
Choose your tool — either digital (phone or computer) or physical (a notebook and pen).
Find some quiet time and space where you won’t be interrupted.
Set realistic, measurable expectations — five minutes, one page, or a few paragraphs. Consistency matters more than volume.
Write whatever is on your mind — reflections, gratitude, goals, prayers, questions… let it flow.
Be honest and embrace imperfections — keep it private, and review only when it feels helpful.
Despite knowing that journaling will be good for me, I frequently don’t make time for it. Either I'm not intentional enough, or I just think it's no big deal to skip quiet time in the morning, and I move on with my day. But inevitably, I find myself feeling scattered, unfocused, and like I'm not making any progress in my goals or desires. I thought I would be able to manage the challenge of journaling everyday this week during my cross-country move— however, I found it to be especially difficult this week.
I just started using the app Notion this year, so I chose to go with a digital format. I noticed that when I sat down to write my thoughts, intentions, and desires, I felt solid—like I was setting something in motion. But as the day progressed, I felt more and more lost. Come evening, I found myself feeling discouraged and like I was back at square one.
Journaling as a means of therapy can be quite challenging all by itself, but adding travel on top of that made it more difficult than I was prepared for. Even when you’re with the person you love most in the world, travel is exhausting. You are on the move, eating unhealthy food, not getting enough sleep, out of your normal routine…
I recently learned something about myself that I would like to work on- I constantly try to assume what people around me are thinking and feeling, and my assumptions are usually negative (I think it's a result of years of trauma and emotional abuse - assuming what someone was thinking or feeling offered me protection somehow, so I could prepare myself for the worst…) After I assume the worst, I make myself smaller, in an attempt to not be a burden. In general, I struggle to know what I want and to make decisions for myself. So I've relied on what I think everyone else wants to dictate decisions. When I assume what people are thinking, feeling, wanting… and my assumptions are incorrect, this creates problems when there were none. I am beginning to realize that this is textbook codepency and people pleasing.
So every day this week through journaling, I tried to set intentions for how I wanted the day to go. And every day, I felt like a failure because I kept getting stuck in my head.
For example, my daughter and I were at the Hoover Dam. She took a quick and cute video of me. She handed me the iPhone and asked me to do the same for her, and instead of simply capturing a quick clip for her, I got in my head about- Am I doing it right? Is this the right angle? Is it the right size? Is it the right distance? It’s gonna suck. I’m so bad at this. Until she was so frustrated with me just standing there frozen, that she was ready to just give up and go get in the car and leave. And I didn’t even take a video of her! So the whole rest of the day, the whole trip actually, I felt terrible about it. I still feel terrible about it. I wish I could take it back. I wish I could change it. I wish I would never do anything so stupid again, but that’s the way it’s been lately.
Can a person truly change? If so, how does change really happen?
I am discovering, not with one perfect decision, but with dry, awkward, stubborn effort. Progress is rarely graceful. It’s usually messy and repetitive and full of trying again.
Just as we arrived in our new town, it began to sprinkle. We cleaned the floors and blew up the air mattresses so we could settle in for our first night. Sometime after midnight, the rain started for real—and it hasn’t stopped since. A small package was delivered the day we arrived. Inside were two little boxes of mala beads my daughter had ordered. (Mala beads are a simple, tangible way to practice gratitude. You hold them and offer a prayer or a moment of thanks with each of the 108 beads.) So here I am, sitting on a blow-up mattress, rain tapping the windows, beads in my hands. Expressing, and deeply feeling a sense of gratitude - in spite of failures, in the middle of the struggle for change.
I’ve always been a spiritual person. I read weather, timing and circumstances as God’s language to me. I don’t remember my dreams. God doesn’t speak to me out loud. So I pay attention to what unfolds around me. When we pulled into our new town, we were behind a vehicle with a sentiment written on the back window that read, "What if everything is unfolding perfectly?” What if? What if?
And when the rain came last night, I felt its meaning immediately.
Rain washes away what’s old. It brings freshness and new life. It cleanses what no longer serves. It signals abundance, growth, and renewal. It marks a season of transition. Sometimes God speaks softly. Sometimes He speaks through a storm. Today, I’m listening.
As I step into this new season, I’m choosing a different way to measure myself. I will not obsess over where I fail; I will celebrate that I try. I will not fear the unfamiliar; I will welcome it. I will stop trying to read others and just fully be myself. And even though this week wasn’t all I hoped it would be, I can feel something shifting. There is hope in the air. I will keep journaling, and change is happening.
