Nobody is Going to Read Your Journal

By Elle Simons

If you’re anything like me, you probably spent a considerable portion of your childhood fervently begging for one of those esteemed Justice notebooks. Nothing matched to the allure of the pink, fuzzy ones covered with squishy, glittery initials on the front. Mine was proudly embellished with the letter “E” and, like most of my treasures, spent most of its life beneath the veil of my twin bed. Its existence was marked by a handful of entries, random doodles, and fleeting thoughts before fate led it to a dusty box in the confines of the attic.

Fast forward to present day, and oddly enough—not much has changed. Journals still seem to flutter in and out of my life with a mismatched trail of memories. The mystery of inconsistency in journaling always stumps me. Why, for an act of self-care, does the idea of putting pen to paper about my feelings feel more exhausting than any normal task?

Reflecting on this, I notice a continuous parallel in my life: a constant desire for beautiful things. In an era dominated by “aesthetic bullet journaling” tutorials on YouTube and the appeal of transforming your diary into an Emily Dickinson masterpiece on TikTok, it seems our collective priorities have undergone a major shift. Our journals, once intimate pages for our emotions, now are transforming into yet another trophy on the shelf.

In our aesthetic pursuits, have we inadvertently sacrificed the authenticity of self-reflection?

To fully understand how much journaling has changed, we have to understand its origins. According to The History of Journaling, some of the earliest examples of diaries are from 10th century Japan. Japanese courtiers kept "pillow books" to record their thoughts and observations, marking the first known instance of diary keeping.

The Renaissance kicked this practice up with scientific observations, philosophical musings, and personal anecdotes. It was now a custom to write down your thoughts and experiences, this soon continuing in modern day, with it now as a practice of self-care. Slate describes this new occurrence, known as the self-care movement. This movement rapidly spread after the COVID pandemic, when self-care was more important than ever.

Self care came to popularity during the rise of the women’s and civil rights movements. Quickly, self-care became a political act, viewed as a way that these marginalized groups could control their health as the patriarchal medical system failed to tend to their needs. As the 80’s approached, this movement turned into more of a lifestyle. Holistic fitness lifestyles became a new era of self-care that disassociated it further from politics—think hot yoga and the YMCA.

When the COVID pandemic struck, self-care was the savior of our collective sanity. In moments of isolation, it seemed that this form of comfort was one of the only things keeping us going. While separated by necessary precautions, we found peace in the simple acts such as virtual game nights, sharing skincare tips over a screen, and delving into whatever DIY projects we could get our hands on.

It wasn’t just about face masks and scented candles; it became a survival strategy, a way to navigate the chaos.

TikTok kicked up this idea, #selfcare being searched more than ever, accumulating over 58 billion views as of January 2024. Many videos consist of soothing routines and romanticizing the mundane.

The front of the TikTok #Selfcare page.

This is where journaling came into play. As the world hit pause, and social distance became the new socializing, people turned to their journals as if they were talking to an old friend. This hobby allowed people to process their thoughts and fears from the confines of their bedrooms. Journaling also offered a sense of control in a world that seemed increasingly unpredictable.

Though as the trend got more popular, the internet's obsession with aesthetics followed. Suddenly, journaling wasn’t just about putting your feelings on paper—it became a competition. The pressure to curate the perfect aesthetic journal with impeccable handwriting, color-coordinated tabs, and visually pleasing layouts became more popular than the actual content.

It seemed as if the value of a journal entry was measured by its potential to go viral rather than its personal significance, and surprisingly, this started way before TikTok took hold of the trend.

If you were on YouTube in 2017, you’ve probably seen the term “BUJO.” BUJO is a shortened version of “Bullet Journaling,” which according to The Bullet Journal website, is simply a mindfulness practice designed as a productivity system. And their claim being, to participate in this practice, you only need a pen and paper.

This is where I, who at 11 discovered the art of BUJOs, totally disagree. Bullet Journaling is not just about jotting down notes, it’s a meticulous process that requires an arsenal of highlights, impeccable handwriting, every color of washi tapes that has been released since 2006, and a perfect journal that aligns with the overall aesthetic. Not to mention, the investment of time and effort that can easily stretch into hours.

Said "easy and simple" bullet journaling. Credit to @saraahjournaling on Instagram.

Plant Based Bride, a YouTube content creator, puts it perfectly in her video “You’re Going to Quit Bullet Journaling (and here is why).” To sum up the investigation in one quote, “If you get too caught up making your bullet journal perfect, you will quit.”

In the same way that many BUJO content creators are quitting the craft, many TikTok creators, who once flaunted their flawless journals, are coming to an end. The question arises: Why do we invest so much effort in creating something seemingly perfect when, in reality, it’s something few will ever actually see?

It appears we can’t resist adding a rulebook to any act of self-care. When COVID broke out, we were convinced that journaling everyday would solve our problems. In 2017, we were convinced that meticulously tracking our every emotion with the finest brand of highlighter would solve our problems. And similar to the present day, we have made this rule that if we have a journal, and it’s absolutely stunning, then our emotions would be too.

We have to realize that journaling isn't a task on our to-do list; it’s a pathway to healing. It’s not about confining our thoughts but setting them free. Journaling, at its core, is a liberating practice, creating a sacred space between you and the page.

Trying to escape our relentless pursuit of beauty is pointless. It would be a waste to discard the quest for aesthetics entirely. If the allure of visually appealing pages brings you joy, embrace it. Yet, for individuals like myself who have struggled with feelings of inadequacy—where journals fell short of an imagined perfection—the bottom line is: your personal journal is a space for genuine self-reflection. Emphasis on the “self.” Spare nothing in its pages; inscribe the good, the bad, and the ugly.

If you find yourself stuck on perfection, remember this: Your journal is yours and yours alone; it exists solely for you.