My Problem With Journaling Prompts
Illustration: Sydney Hanson
What exactly does 'journaling' mean? How, or even where, do I begin this seemingly complex process? As I take my first steps into the world of journaling, I find myself wondering about the best approach. As I fumble around for a starting point, I instinctively find myself on Pinterest, but alas, instead of inspiring suggestions, I'm greeted with unwelcomed flashbacks to the writing exercises of my grade 12 English class.
Every class began with a writing prompt — describe a place that holds meaning to you, or offer words of wisdom to your past self, or the all-too-classic, if you could dine with one person, living or dead, who would it be and why?
These prompts, especially their “why” components, felt more like a chore than an opportunity for self-discovery. I have no interest in pondering over my greatest weakness as if I were prepping for a job interview. After all, isn’t journaling meant to be enlightening, rather than an interrogation?
However, there is an undeniable therapeutic power to journaling. By putting pen to paper, we create a safe space to confront our emotions, fear, and aspirations. This act of externalizing our thoughts can lead to clarity, providing a tangible form to our internal chaos. I just have no idea where to start.
What I find intriguing,and sometimes frustrating about certain journal prompts is their uncanny ability to tap into my emotional state, generating responses that directly mirror my mood. The sunny days, when I am brimming with optimism, looking through a rose-tinted view of life; those journal entries are a testament to hope and happiness. However, on days clouded by frustration or sadness, the color of my narratives changes dramatically, painting a somber, even bleak picture of my reality. This drastic shift between emotional highs and lows births a dichotomy in perspectives that leaves me still. It propels me into an existential quest: which of these emotional landscapes genuinely encapsulates my life? Is the cheery optimist more 'me' or is it the contemplative melancholic?
Feeling exasperated, I wonder, what if I employ song titles as prompts for my journal entries? I imagine using The Strokes' "Why Are Sundays So Depressing" on gloomy weekend afternoons, or invoking Rihanna's "Bitch Better Have My Money" when my friend conveniently forgets to send me her half of the UberEats bill, leaving me absolutely fuming. Perhaps I could use the Beatles' "Norwegian Wood'' to voice my frustrations about the annoyingly tiny font in Haruki Murakami's novels, or to dissect the often questionable portrayal of women in his narratives. As for those notoriously stressful times during midterm and exam season, Ginuwine's “So Anxious” could be the perfect lyrical ally. These titles, with their varied moods and themes, may be one step towards more authentic journaling.
I'm beginning to wonder if I've been too skeptical of traditional journaling prompts. Is it too far-fetched to think that one day I might find one that clicks, inspiring me to dig a bit deeper and uncover a hidden part of myself, ultimately transforming my approach to journaling? Who knows?
Possibly, journaling prompts are doing precisely what they're designed to do — incite thought and inspire writing. They're pushing me to think, to write, and even to question their very existence. The irony isn't lost on me, that the reason I'm writing this is because these prompts sparked the thought in the first place. So, maybe the 'problem' isn't them, but my resistance to them. Maybe the prompts aren't the puzzle to be solved, but rather, I am. Perhaps, Regardless of the means, the destination remains the same — a better understanding of myself through the written word. Whether driven by prompts, song titles, or spontaneous thoughts, the act of writing can be a sanctuary for the soul. But let's not overthink—it's simply an exploration of self, let's just take it one journal entry at a time.
