The Mirror I Avoided

What if nothing comes? What if I make a mistake? What if what I write is complete garbage?

I wasn’t procrastinating because I was lazy. I was procrastinating because I was afraid. I wasn’t even trying to “write.” I was just trying to journal. 

I told myself that if I made a mistake, I just had to turn the page. That helped. Showing up every day — even the days when I was full of dread — helped too. I figured if I showed up every day, the process would eventually become easier. I learned to trust that there’s always something to write about. I’m not as fearful as I was. In fact, more often than not, I look forward to writing.

I got my first journal in third grade. After that, I journaled off and on for about 30 years until about 10 years ago. That was when I started a daily journal practice that changed my life. 

After about three or four years of daily journaling, I realized that I kept running into the same issues. In retrospect, I kept running into the same issues because I kept running from them. These issues held me back in my personal and professional life. I felt stuck and I decided to find a therapist to help me learn how to pull myself out. 

I went to therapy every week for three years. The entire time I continued journaling. I wrote and wrote and wrote — every morning. This wasn’t always the case. When I was in my late 20s, I briefly saw a therapist who recommended journaling. Every session, she’d suggest it. Every session, I refused. The idea of journaling terrified me. I’d recently gone through and read some of the journal entries from my early 20s and was ashamed of myself for the thoughts and feelings I’d had. I couldn’t bring myself to write again.

I was looking at my past self through the lens of who I thought I should have been instead of giving myself compassion for where I was at the time.

This second round of therapy was more impactful because I journaled in tandem. It was the journaling that helped me realize I needed therapy and it was the therapy that helped me realize I needed journaling. Together they created a positive feedback loop. When I’d circle an issue in my journal, I’d bring it up in therapy. When I’d journal after therapy, I had more time and space to process what was discussed, what I wanted to let go of, and what still needed some work. 

During this period, I was scared the entire time. My fear made me unwilling to confront what I was avoiding. I was stuck in an emotional holding pattern. I knew if I kept avoiding the place where my fear originated, I’d never heal.

One morning, at what turned out to be the end of my three years of weekly therapy, I sat down at my journal. I told myself, This is it. Today you’re going to confront whatever this is that you’re afraid of and you’re going to be okay. You cannot leave your chair until you figure it out.

I hemmed and hawed. I circled. I hedged. I got antsy and angsty and uncomfortable. Then, in the last sentence at the bottom of page three, I found my answer.

I’m afraid that I’m unlovable and I’m afraid people will find out.

As soon as I wrote it, I knew it wasn’t true. I’d learned over the previous three years that I was more lovable than I gave myself credit for. Even better — I didn’t care who found out!

I’d been afraid to confront this intangible force that was pulling my strings behind the scenes but I did it anyway. Confronting it was one of the few times in my life that I felt truly courageous.

I was set free. I knew my time in therapy was over. I let go of the therapy but I held on to my journal practice. 

The blank page is like a mirror. When I looked into it ten years ago, the reflection was distorted. I didn't recognize what I saw, and what I did see I didn't always like. Over the years I've been afraid to confront it. Over time, I've grown to trust that what's reflected back to me is more accurate — when I allow it.

xo Trace