Journaling became a permanent part of my daily life.
Every morning, I set a timer and I write for no less than fifteen minutes daily.
A writer writes and practice makes perfect.
As time passed on, I started to carry my journal with me everywhere, I found writing to be therapeutic.
I write to important people in my life.
I write to my mother who passed away in 2019. I still tell her everything and I hear her advice as my pen smoothly glides through the pages.
I write to my husband, telling him about my days. I write down our love story which I love to reread once in a while. Like the love we share, these written words have the power to heal and move my soul.
This beautiful journal is my most trusted confidant, full of entries that remind me that I matter, that I am an imperfectly loved human. With every entry I experience a roller coaster of a spectrum of emotions that keep me humble, grounded, determined, hopeful, inspired and strong.
My journal serves as a reminder of what should be my only focus, the positivity in my life, the goals and dreams I’ve set for myself.
Even though I live in retrospect rereading the past I use it to contemplate on my growth and the importance of savoring each moment.
