Estimated reading time: 3 minutes
This weekend, I went back through all the journals I’ve had since I began bullet journaling (all the way back in 2017!) looking for any other quotes I’d used for hand lettering practice. It was a fascinating—and somewhat startling—trip down memory lane, showing how much my journaling practice has changed over time.
In my first bullet journal, spanning 2017-2021, the early pages feature rushed handwriting and ink from a crappy pen I got for free from some school or work event; later pages suddenly burst into color with a flurry of brush pens, markers, and gel pens used for multiple layout styles and even mini comics drawn just for myself. Other journals introduced washi tape, whimsical stickers, and still more layout experimentation; pages were filled with silly doodles, daily gratitude check-ins, and reminders to care for myself in carefully penned hand lettering.
My journals are stored rather haphazardly, and so my review of past selves did not proceed chronologically. It wasn’t until I had gone through four or five previous notebooks that I realized how much more subdued my bullet journal has become over time. Handwriting so shoddy even I struggle to read it seeped in. Stickers and washi tape appearances dwindled until they disappeared. Page layouts lost their experimental edge, joyless in their focus on to-do lists and blank spaces where I meant to doodle and reflect daily but never did.
I spent the weekend processing the profound sorrow that hit me after this observation, and ultimately realized that what I felt was grief. I had halted exploration of artistic impulses in favor of maximizing productivity, spurred by the false sense of urgency ubiquitous in a capitalist society. I had stopped letting myself play in my journal, expending energy not on creating my own joy, but on the drudgery of work and the daily grind.
After thumbing through the pages of these tomes, several entries stuck out in my mind. In one of my journals, I had gotten into the habit each day of opening the book Morning Affirmations by Jennifer Williamson to a random page, and carefully hand lettered whichever affirmation the universe sent my way. I had forgotten that among these affirmations, I had written a few of my own when I needed them most.
One lesson I have learned from my career coaching program is that setting aside daily time to challenge limiting beliefs and appreciate small moments is an essential practice to keep me rooted in strength. While the resilience practices shared in that program were extremely helpful in getting me to a better place with my mental health, I realized in reading my affirmations that those two practices are not enough. I need to remind myself to use my power to resist the systems of oppression that prevent me from living a fulfilling life, and explicitly affirm myself each day.
Past Me wrote a particularly poignant affirmation that Present Me absolutely needed to read again. In the middle of this work week, I share this affirmation from my past self as an offering to you, and as a reminder to myself.
I reserve my energy for me.
I do not owe work my life energy and life force beyond what I feel able to give. I am allowed to save energy for the things that are important to me and keep me going, even if that means I use work time to recharge. I am allowed to give less than 100% at work when I don’t have 100% to give, and I need to keep some for me. It is my job to take care of me, and that job is more important than any job for anyone or anything else. Capitalism does not get to steal my life away from me.
Riffs on the Reg 