Honest storytelling as a form of healing.

Author: Ellie Augustin

  • Relearning How to Come Back to Myself

    Relearning How to Come Back to Myself

    Today, I learned something in my journal therapy studies that didn’t feel new it felt remembered.

    It wasn’t about fixing anything.

    It wasn’t about digging deeper or analyzing harder.

    It was about re-connection.

    There’s a concept in therapy called a Corrective Emotional Experience.

    In simple terms, it’s when an old emotional pattern gets met differently with more safety, awareness, and choice than was available the first time around.

    That’s what clicked for me today.

    So much of what we carry emotionally isn’t happening in real time. Our bodies and minds are often responding to old moments, old meanings, old survival patterns that once kept us safe. Journal therapy doesn’t ask us to erase those experiences  it invites us to gently re-associate with them in the present.

    To come back to them as who we are now.

    What struck me most is this:

    Healing isn’t always about release. Sometimes it’s about re-meeting.

    Meeting the part of yourself that learned to cope.

    Meeting the version of you that didn’t have language yet.

    Meeting the moment where something got frozen in place not to relive it, but to witness it with compassion and clarity.

    Writing becomes the bridge.

    On the page, we slow things down enough to notice:

    What am I feeling and when did I first learn to feel this way?

    Is this emotion happening now, or is it echoing from then?

    What meaning did I attach to this moment that no longer belongs to me?

    This is where the corrective experience happens.

    Not by force. Not by positivity.

    But by presence.

    When we stay with the feeling and remind ourselves that we are safe now, the nervous system begins to soften.

    The body updates the story. The memory loses its grip not because it disappears, but because it finally gets a new ending.

    Not because the past was wrong.

    But because we are no longer the same person who lived it.

    Today reminded me why I’m drawn to this work.

    Why writing has always been my way home.

    Why the page doesn’t judge, rush, or demand it simply holds.

    Sometimes healing looks like breakthroughs.

    Other times, it looks like sitting quietly with your pen and saying,

    “I see you. I’m here now.”

    And that is enough.

  • Thank you Benito

    Thank you Benito

    I want to take a moment to say thank you to Bad Bunny to Benito, really.

    The Super Bowl halftime show was layered. It wasn’t loud just to be loud. It wasn’t spectacle for the sake of spectacle. It was intentional. Cultural. Personal. And full of messages that landed differently depending on who you are and where you’re standing in your life.

    There were messages for the youth. Messages for people who come from somewhere and had to fight to be seen. Messages about pride, language, roots, and refusing to dilute yourself to be accepted. All of that mattered. Deeply.

    But one moment stayed with me more than anything else.

    When he said, believe in yourself.

    And then without overexplaining, without drama he handed the Grammy to his younger self.

    That moment stopped me.

    Because that wasn’t performance. That was acknowledgment. That was healing. That was a grown man looking back at the version of himself who probably doubted, struggled, felt unseen, and saying: We did it. I didn’t abandon you.

    Make your inner child proud

    There was something so powerful about watching someone honor not just their success, but the work it took to get there. The quiet nights. The moments of being misunderstood. The choice to keep going without losing who you are.

    And the pride in his heritage unapologetic, woven into the fabric of the performance, not explained or translated was beautiful. Not because it needed validation, but because it never asked for it.

    Ironically, or maybe not ironically at all, that message felt like it was meant for me.

    Where I am right now in my life, I’m doing a lot of looking back. A lot of reconciling with earlier versions of myself. A lot of asking whether I believed enough, trusted enough, stayed true enough. Seeing that exchange between present self and younger self felt like permission to be proud of how far I’ve come, even if I’m not “done” yet.

    So thank you, Benito.

    For reminding people especially the ones still becoming that believing in yourself isn’t arrogance. It’s survival. It’s continuity. It’s how you make it back to yourself without losing the thread.

    And sometimes, the most powerful thing you can do is turn around, look your younger self in the eyes, and say: I carried you with me the whole time.

  • Five Free Apps That Turn the City Into a Living Archive

    Five Free Apps That Turn the City Into a Living Archive

    I move through cities the same way I move through memory slowly, observantly, noticing what most people rush past. I don’t just want to go places. I want to understand where I am, and I want to leave a trace for myself.

    Which of these will you use first?

    These free apps have quietly become part of how I explore, wander, and document. Think of them as modern tools for curiosity little digital companions that help turn a walk into a story and a moment into a keepsake.

    Atlas Obscura

    This app is for the curious soul who knows the best places are rarely the loudest ones.

    Atlas Obscura maps the strange, hidden, and often overlooked corners of cities forgotten monuments, unusual museums, secret staircases, quiet landmarks with history baked into their walls. It’s perfect for wandering without a rigid plan. You open it, see what’s nearby, and suddenly the city feels layered instead of flat.

    It’s not about checking things off a list. It’s about discovering what was already there, waiting.

    PocketBooth

    PocketBooth is documentation in its purest form.

    It mimics old-school photo booth strips four frames, one moment, no overthinking. There’s something intimate about it. No filters competing for attention. No pressure to perform. Just presence.

    A photo booth has always been a form of proof: I was here. PocketBooth lets you do that anywhere alone, with friends, mid-walk, mid-life.

    Tape

    Tape feels like movement captured honestly.

    It allows you to document moments in a raw, almost analog way short clips that feel more like fragments than finished products. I use it when I don’t want polish. When I want truth. When the moment matters more than how it looks.

    Some memories aren’t meant to be curated. They’re meant to be kept.

    1SE

    1SE captures just one second a day. I use it as a quiet form of documentation by the end of the month, I can see my days unfold, second by second. It’s a reminder that even the smallest moments count.

    Bloomberg Connects

    This one is for intentional wandering.

    Bloomberg Connects gives access to museums, cultural spaces, galleries, and landmarks, while clearly breaking down what’s free and what’s not. It removes the guesswork and the intimidation that sometimes comes with cultural spaces.

    I love that it makes exploration feel accessible no gatekeeping, no pressure, just information so you can choose how you want to engage.

    Why I Keep These on My Phone

    Together, these apps do two things: they help me discover, and they help me remember.

    Exploration without documentation disappears.

    Documentation without meaning feels empty.

    These tools let me move through cities and through life with intention. Paying attention. Leaving small records behind. Honoring moments without trying to control them.

    A city is a living archive.

    So are we.

  • 14 Reasons Valentine’s Day Is Overhyped (and I’m Not Sorry)

    14 Reasons Valentine’s Day Is Overhyped (and I’m Not Sorry)

    What do you think about this day?

    1. It’s been aggressively commercialized.

    Love didn’t ask to be packaged in red cellophane and sold at a markup.

    2. It’s literally rooted in martyrdom.

    Nothing says romance like a day born from execution and religious confusion.

    3. Love should be practiced daily, not scheduled annually.

    If affection needs a calendar reminder, that’s not romance that’s maintenance.

    4. Flowers and candy prices are straight-up offensive.

    The same bouquet last week was half the price. Miss me with that capitalism.

    5. You can’t get reservations anywhere you actually want to eat.

    And even if you could, the prix-fixe menu is a scam in disguise.

    6. It creates pressure instead of intimacy.

    One person feels judged for “not doing enough,” the other feels undervalued if nothing shows up.

    7. It turns love into a performance.

    Public posts, forced smiles, curated moments who is this really for?

    8. It reinforces outdated relationship roles.

    Men are expected to prove, women are expected to receive. We’re tired.

    9. It ignores every kind of love that isn’t romantic.

    Friendships, self-love, chosen family, healing none of that gets a card aisle.

    10. It magnifies loneliness for people already struggling.

    A whole day dedicated to reminding people what they don’t have is cruel, actually.

    11. It rewards bare minimum behavior.

    One grand gesture doesn’t erase a year of emotional absence.

    12. It confuses spending money with showing care.

    Real love is consistency, not receipts.

    13. It encourages comparison instead of connection.

    Someone else’s roses don’t mean your relationship is lacking social media just lies loudly.

    14. If love is real, it doesn’t need a holiday to survive.

    And if it only shows up on February 14th… that’s your answer.

  • 100 Days what’s in a Doodle

    100 Days what’s in a Doodle

    For my 100 days, I will be allowing the pen to flow via doodles.

    What that means is allowing my pen to meet paper and create a kind of dance.

    There’s no need for it to be perfect.

    No obligation to share every day.

    What will fill your 100 days?

    Just five or ten minutes of being

    Truthfully, I am not an artist when it comes to drawing.

    connecting pen to paper without words, letting the movement lead.

    I’ve seen many people share that they’ll be using oil paints, watercolors, and remarkable artistic talents. I admire that deeply, but that isn’t me.

    I almost stepped back because of that.

    I am poetic. Writing is my language. When it comes to visual art, I’ve always been the admirer.

    But when I reflected on what this project actually represents, I realized something important:

    art was never about the outcome.

    It was about giving myself a space to create.

    That is why I became a writer.

    And now, with this 100 Day Project approaching, I’m choosing to give myself that same freedom again.

    to create without pressure, without performance, without expectation.

    Just pen.

    Paper.

    And permission.

    Remember join along and find out all the details HERE

  • Will you join the 100 Day Project?

    Will you join the 100 Day Project?

    The 100 Day Project is a global, free creative project that anyone can join.

    ( find out more info HERE)

    The idea is simple:

    choose one creative practice and return to it every day for 100 days.

    There are no requirements around skill level, materials, or outcomes.

    Your practice can be anything writing, drawing, movement, photography, noticing, or something entirely your own.

    How it works:

    Choose one thing. Something small enough to repeat daily and flexible enough to grow with you. Commit to a short daily practice. Five minutes is enough. More is welcome, but not required.

    Show up for 100 days. Not to perfect your craft, but to build a relationship with it. Share if you want. Sharing is optional.

    Many people document their process publicly, others keep it entirely private.

    The project isn’t about productivity or performance.

    It’s about consistency, curiosity, and allowing creativity to exist without pressure.

    The next cycle of the 100 Day Project begins on February 22 (2/22).

    Will you join in?

    The days leading up to it are a preparation period a chance to reflect, explore ideas, and decide what kind of creative practice you want to commit to.

    Tomorrow, I’ll share what my own 100 days will look like.

  • Facing the Week’s Battle

    Facing the Week’s Battle

    This week had a way of testing me.

    It started on Monday,

    when I knocked down my own tower and finally let myself see what it is I want to work toward. Tuesday came and the feelings didn’t leave. They lingered, pressed in, asking to be acknowledged.

    So I began to encapsulate them, to plan because planning is part of what I’m building now.

    By Wednesday, Thursday, and now Friday,

    the lesson became clear: support matters.

    Not a crowd. Not a circle for show. But someone who listens really listens who acknowledges the trials, who tries to understand.

    I may not have what people call a group of friends, but having support that hears me

    has made all the difference. In this journey of entering my sovereignty, I know I have to stay true to myself.

    I know I have to keep going. This is a hard hill to climb.

    But knowing I have the ability to succeed and the drive, and the support is what’s keeping me moving forward, even now.

  • Pressure Makes Diamonds

    Pressure Makes Diamonds

    My alarm goes off well before the sun even considers rising.

    3:00 a.m. blinks back at me, blurry and unforgiving.

    I lie there for a moment, knowing I want to hit snooze but also knowing I won’t.

    I sit up anyway.

    I grab my phone and remember I didn’t even set out what I’m going to wear.

    The exhaustion from yesterday has settled deep into my legs, heavy and familiar.

    And the thought comes, quiet but clear:

    this is not where I’m supposed to be.

    Still, I push myself up.

    Because I need to do this.

    Because this will be part of my story.

    Part of what I went through.

    They’ll say it’s easy work.

    Minimal tasks.

    Nothing to complain about.

    But those minimal things drain my soul,

    because I know deep in my bones that I am meant for something else.

    I layer up for another winter day and wonder if maybe it’s just seasonal depression.

    Maybe when the light returns, when the warmth does, this feeling will fade.

    And then the nudge comes again:

    No. This isn’t that.

    So I write this as a reminder to myself

    if it’s true that pressure makes diamonds,

    then I will be the biggest one ever found.

  • You Don’t Need the Right Words to Begin

    You Don’t Need the Right Words to Begin

    You don’t need a plan, a prompt, or the right words to start journal therapy.

    You just need a place to begin and permission to keep it simple.

    If you’re new to this practice, here are three gentle ways to ease in.

    Choose tools that feel good to you. Find a pen you enjoy holding and a notebook that invites you in. I prefer a grid notebook it gives structure without pressure.

    Find your start.

    Set a 10-minute timer and just let out whatever is on your mind. Write without trying to sound profound.

    This isn’t about pretty words or making sense. Don’t edit, don’t judge, don’t stop to reread. Let it be raw, repetitive, human. The page can hold it. Close with kindness.

    When the timer ends, write one gentle closing line. A reminder that you showed up. That this was enough for today.

    You don’t need to know what you’re doing.

    You just need to begin.

  • Doing Hard Things (Even When Your Soul Isn’t in It)

    Doing Hard Things (Even When Your Soul Isn’t in It)

    Doing hard things when your heart is elsewhere is one of the most exhausting acts of adulthood.

    There are moments when your spirit has already left the room. You’ve renounced a situation internally emotionally, energetically, spiritually but your body still has to show up. Duty calls you into places you’ve already outgrown. And no, you can’t always just walk away. Not yet.

    So you stay.

    Not because you’re weak.

    Not because you lack courage.

    But because responsibility, timing, and reality sometimes require endurance before release.

    This is the part no one romanticizes: continuing on while your passion lives somewhere else. Knowing you’re meant for more, yet tending to what’s in front of you because walking out prematurely would cost you more than staying a little longer.

    I’ve done this in every form

    a job that drained me,

    a relationship that had run its course,

    friendships that no longer fit the version of me I was becoming.

    And here I am again, standing at a crossroads, holding a double-edged sword. One side is survival. The other is vision. Both are sharp. Both require intention.

    What keeps me moving forward is this:

    I know this is temporary.

    There’s already a countdown in my mind.

    The work I’m doing now is not wasted it’s preparation.

    Sometimes thriving doesn’t look like joy.

    Sometimes it looks like discipline.

    Sometimes it’s simply keeping your word to yourself while you build the bridge out.

    If you’ve ever stayed somewhere longer than your soul wanted to, I see you. And I’d love to know what was it for you? A job, a relationship, a friendship? What did you learn while you waited for your moment to step forward?

    This isn’t the end of the story.

    It’s the part where the groundwork is being laid.