This Weird Journaling Habit Transformed How I Handle my Chaotic life

On using imagery to self soothe

This essay is an invitation to use writing as a method of self care, and perhaps not in the way you’d think. I feel rather like I’m telling you a secret that shouldn’t be shared. An odd quirk that should stay private. But, I’m excited to let you into this slightly strange way that I soothe and take care of myself.

I use words, specifically: imagery to self soothe, cope and regulate.

I have been journaling every day since for nearly 6 years, and this method of taking care of myself through words was immediate. If you read my journals (don’t) they are filled with luxurious and over indulgent description. There will be words that don’t really work in the context but I just like the sound. I will be half way through an outrageous breakdown and I will describe the sudden smell of coffee that’s wafted my way. It’s a tapestry of vignettes, bringing beauty and safety into a chaotic life.

When I experience rejection, I sit on my fucking gilded throne, dressed head to two in double denim, a gold crown encrusted with diamonds and ruby on my head, cradling an absolutely fuck off huge mug of english breakfast tea with milk and sweetener. I sit on that throne and I read the rejection letter and I take a deep sip of my drink. I tuck my feet under myself, breath deeply and radiate fucking power. My eye-line is dead straight, looking down my throne room. I call for someone to bring me chocolate cake.

When I am about to go out on stage, mic’ed up, flooded with adrenaline, my soul is in the most luxurious silk pyjamas, nestled in an impractically deep armchair. I am cocooned in blankets, warmth and safety. I have movie popcorn, and I’m watching Adventure Time.

When I have absolutely no idea what I am doing, and everything makes absolutely no sense, I am shrouded in this specific cloak:

and I am holding a lantern, in a forest that is entirely dark. I am an adventurer, and I do not know where I am going. But I know the next step. That much is illuminated. I see the mossy, toadstool littered forest floor, it is lit up under the flame. I take that step, and then the next, the purple velvet envelops me in that Liv Tyler sexiness.

There are so many more of these. My imagination is my refuge, wherever my physical body may be. Sometimes, I’ll just write down words and images I like in a big fuck off list. My armoury against reality. Or rather, a treasure chest of magic that allows me to navigate reality really well. I am able to be so brave, because my soul is perpetually cozy / delusional / in a literal make believe land.

I’ve often felt like this way of coping is child like, and in a beautiful way — it is. What is child like is not to be thrown away in adulthood, it is to be protected. Imagination and creativity, day dreaming: these things are childlike and should sit at the heart of all that we do. So please, the next time you are totally overwhelmed, build a world around you that is make believe. Let your imagination take care of you, empower you, centre you. When the external world is too much, create internal spaces that delight you.

---

Today is day 2/100 of #promoteyourart100 - a challenge I set myself (and you!) to promote my book, We Need Your Art, every single day until it comes out. So, allow me to indulge you in one more vignette. This one’s about you, after you’ve bought my book ;)

You sit down with We Need Your Art. You’ve got a mug of coffee, the morning sunlight sneaks through a crack in the curtains and the dust moats dance. It’s quiet. You clutch a generous handful of highlighters and pens. It is a holy moment. You begin to read.

The book is baptised with a splashes of coffee. Line after line is highlighted. Sometimes in yellow, sometimes in pink, occasionally, for variety: in green. You have epiphany after epiphany as the sun rises. We need your art. We Need Your art. We Need YOUR art. You take the mantra into your day.

You return to the book the next day, and then the day after that. Taking it in in bitesize bits. It is becoming a morning liturgy. The pages become dogeared and as the days pass a weight of shame is lifted off your shoulders. You are filled with a rebellious spirit to just fuck ALL THE NOISE, FUCK ALL THE RULES, and make stuff. You feel deeply connected to your dreams, and idea upon idea flow through you. You write them in the margins of the book. You highlight the ideas in orange. You draw little stars next to them. You feel excited. Sure of yourself. You know you have Amie in your corner.

You finish the book on a rainy day. You’re all tucked up with a good mug of tea and a thick blanket over your knees. It is time. It is time to take up space in ways you haven’t before, it’s time to finish projects and champion them. It’s time to become the artist you are meant to be. You deface the front cover with the highlighters and smile.