Improved my mental health with daily journaling kicked off in my dingy Seattle apartment last winter. Rain hammers windows. Dog snores loud. Pop-Tart flakes everywhere. Pen scratches first rant. I ugly-laughed. These entries? They pulled me from doom scrolls. Therapy waits. That 3 AM spiral over nothing. I’m a Pacific Northwest mess. I wear socks with sandals. Microwave fish at work. Cancel plans last minute. Here’s my ink-blotted, crumb-covered truth, oops spelled that wrong.
The Pop-Tart Crumb Start
“Today sucked.” Wrote it. Crumbs fell. Dog licked page. Improved my mental health with daily journaling via pastry sabotage? Weirdly yes. Harvard on journaling benefits. Ate rest. Kept writing. Felt lighter.
Why Improved My Mental Health with Daily Journaling Needs Mess
Clean pages lie. Crumbs honest. Tip: Journal wherever—bed, toilet, drive-thru line.
The Cross-Out Rant Storm
“Boss idiot.” Crossed to “my bad?” Then “nah.” Improved my mental health with daily journaling in strike-throughs? Growth baby.
- Spilled tea page.
- Read anyway.
- Laughed tomorrow.
The Pizza Breakfast Dump (Improved My Mental Health with Daily Journaling, Fridge Raid Edition)
Cold slice grease. “Grateful for…pizza?” Improved my mental health with daily journaling at dawn? Greasy truth. Mayo Clinic tips.
Brain fart — section 4?
Whatever, roll.
Park Vent to Pizza Improved My Mental Health with Daily Journaling
- Ranted ex. Wind flipped.
- Dog chased page. Caught.
- “Forgive self.” Wrote shaky. Improved my health with daily journaling, grass stained.
The Tear Stain Page
Cried over nothing. Blot spread. “It’s ok.” Improved my mental health with daily journaling in salt water.
Therapy Wait to Dog Walk
Waitlist long. Walked dog. Journaled bench. “Progress.” Dog pooped on it. Progress?
Midnight to Morning Improved My Mental Health with Daily Journaling
3 AM insom. “Brain quiet.” Quieted. Slept. Morning “win.”
Wrap chaos — improved my mental health with daily journaling, peace
Crumbs. Paw prints. Tear blots. Improved my health with daily journaling patches my rainy chaos. I still cancel. Microwave fish. Doom scroll sometimes. These pages? Lifelines. Fading ink. Grab pen. Scribble dumb. Spill on it. Drop journal fail below. I read chugging cold coffee, probably spilling. Scribble messy, fam, or don’t.
