Not the drawer filled with dead batteries, mystery keys, and pens that stopped working in 2017 although we probably have that one too. 😂
I mean the emotional junk drawer.
It holds the conversation we keep avoiding, the boundary we haven’t set, the grief we promised to revisit, the dream we keep postponing, and the need we keep calling “too much.”
We tuck things away because sometimes we genuinely don’t have the energy to deal with them.
But not right now can quietly become never.
Eventually, the drawer stops closing. An old resentment gets tangled around a new disagreement. A buried need shows up as frustration. One small moment produces a much larger reaction because it was never only about that moment.
It was everything already inside the drawer.
With the full moon and lunar eclipse approaching, perhaps we can allow a little light to reach one thing we’ve kept tucked away. Not because the moon is magically reorganizing our emotional lives if only but because awareness gives us somewhere to begin.
You don’t have to clean out the entire drawer today.
Choose one thing.
Name it. Write about why you tucked it away and what it needs from you now.
Does it need a conversation? A boundary? Rest? Grief? Or simply an honest acknowledgment that it still exists?
What we tuck away doesn’t disappear.
But we can decide what deserves our attention, what needs a proper place, and what we are finally ready to throw the hell out.
Journal Prompt
What needs to come out of my emotional junk drawer?
Begin with:
I keep telling myself I’ll deal with __________ later, but…
Today I had to pay the annual fee for my domain and blog, which is how I realized, oh snap, it has officially been a year.
Lines Between Living is one year old.
I wish I could say I spent the entire year posting consistently, checking off every goal, and turning this blog into exactly what I imagined it would be by now.
I did not.
But I also did not abandon it.
This past year has been a lot. Life has been life-ing, as it tends to do, and there were plenty of times when I had something to say but did not have the time, energy, or mental space to sit down and actually say it.
Sometimes I was too busy living through the thing to write about the thing.
Still, I kept coming back.
So now that I have paid for another year, I need to be serious about what I want to do with it.
My goal is to post three times a week. I am putting that in writing so I cannot act like I never said it. That does not mean every post has to be some long, life-changing masterpiece.
Sometimes it may be a poem, a journal prompt, something I learned, somewhere I went, or simply a thought that would not leave me alone.
I just want to show up here more.
I also still have places on my summer bucket list that I have not crossed off yet. The summer is not over, and neither is my list. I want to actually go to these places, experience them, and write about them instead of continuously saying, “One day.”
One day needs to start finding its way onto the calendar.
The biggest change I want to make during this second year is bringing more of my future career into the blog.
I am studying journal therapy, and the more I learn, the more I know this is not just another random idea I picked up and will forget about later.
This is something I truly want to do. Writing has carried me through grief, anger, confusion, love, heartbreak, reinvention, and all the other shit life has thrown at me. Now I want to learn how to use it intentionally to help other people meet themselves on the page too.
I want to talk more about that here.
I want to share journal prompts, things I am learning throughout my certification, honest conversations about healing, and eventually more information about the workshops and services I plan to offer. I want this blog to grow with me as I move closer to becoming a journal therapy practitioner.
Then there is the seven-day affirmation PDF I created and tried to sell for seven dollars.
I’ve made the decision to turn it into a freebie. ( coming soon )
Not because it is not valuable, but because I would rather it actually reach the people who might need it than sit behind a price tag that is not doing much for it right now.
Maybe it was never supposed to be the thing that made money.
Maybe it is simply supposed to be the thing that introduces someone to my work.
I am learning that changing the plan does not automatically mean the original plan failed.
Sometimes you have to stop trying to force something to work one way and allow it to become useful in another.
So this is where I am after one year.
I did not accomplish everything I thought I would. I was not as consistent as I wanted to be. I still have places to visit, posts to write, a certification to finish, and a whole career to build.
But the blog is still here.
I am still writing.
And apparently, I just paid for another year, so I might as well make some magic happen.
8/8 is almost here, and whether you believe in the energy of the day, use it as a reset, or simply like having a reason to pause and reflect, I think it’s a good time to check in with yourself.
And no, this does not mean you have to completely change your life before August 8th.
These are just eight small things you can do to clear some space, quiet some noise, and think about what you want for the rest of the year.
1. Declutter one space
Just ONE. A drawer, your bag, your desk. Pick somewhere that needs a little attention and clean it out. Sometimes clearing a small space makes you feel lighter without even realizing you needed it.
2. Unfollow what drains you
If an account constantly has you comparing yourself, questioning yourself, or just feeling blah after you see it, unfollow it. Your social media should not make you feel worse about your own life.
3. Donate 8 things you don’t use
Find eight things sitting around that you haven’t used in months and let them go. Someone else may actually need what has just been taking up space in your home.
4. Sit in silence for 8 minutes
No phone. No music. No distractions. Just sit with yourself for eight minutes and see what comes up. You might be surprised by what your mind has been trying to tell you.
5. Write down 8 things you’re proud of
We spend so much time thinking about what we haven’t done that we forget what we HAVE done. Look back at this year and give yourself some credit. Big or small, write eight things that make you proud.
6. Reach out to someone
You know that person you’ve been saying, “I need to text them” about? Do it. If they’ve been on your mind and the relationship feels good and safe, send the message.
7. Do something your future self will thank you for
It can be something as small as saving a few dollars, making an appointment, filling out an application, or finally doing something you’ve been putting off.
Nothing huge. Just one thing.
8. Choose one intention for the rest of the year
What do you really want to give your energy to from now until the end of the year?
Write it down.
Then ask yourself:
What is one thing I can do TODAY to move toward it?
That’s it.
No pressure to magically become a different person because it’s 8/8. This is simply a chance to pause, clear out some things you don’t need, appreciate how far you’ve already come, and decide where you want to go next.
Sometimes a reset doesn’t have to be huge.
Sometimes it starts with one drawer, eight quiet minutes, a journal page, and one decision to keep moving forward.
First, can we take a moment because we made it to week four!
Thank you to everyone who keeps coming back each week to reflect and write with me. Whether you have answered every prompt, skipped one, or saved them all for when you finally have a quiet moment, I appreciate you being here.
There is no right or wrong way to do this. The fact that you are taking a moment to check in with yourself matters
This weeks Prompt:
Whose voice do you hear when you criticize yourself?
I came across a shadow work prompt that made me stop and think about the way we speak to ourselves.
We can be so hard on ourselves without ever questioning where those words came from.
That voice saying you are not good enough, you always mess things up, or you should be further along by now, is that really your voice?
Or is it something someone said to you so many times that you eventually started saying it to yourself?
That is the part that gets me. Sometimes the person is no longer around.
The moment has passed. We may even believe we have moved on, but their words are still living inside us and showing up whenever we feel insecure, make a mistake, or try something new.
After a while, their voice starts sounding like our own.
And because it sounds familiar, we believe it.
This prompt is not about blaming anyone or forcing yourself to suddenly think positively. It is simply about paying attention.
When that critical voice shows up, pause and ask where you first heard it.
You may realize that some of the things you believe about yourself were never yours to begin with.
Maybe your own voice has been buried underneath everyone else’s opinions for so long that you are not sure what it sounds like yet. That is okay too.
Perhaps it starts with something simple:
I am trying.
I am learning.
I deserved more kindness than that.
The goal is not to silence every negative thought overnight. It is to recognize which voice belongs to you and which one you are finally ready to stop believing.
Be gentle with yourself as you write. Some voices have been with us for a long time, but that does not mean they get to speak for us forever.
Tired? Keep going. Overwhelmed? Handle what needs to be handled first. Something feels off? Deal with it later.
Except “later” has a way of becoming never.
Sometimes the body notices what we are carrying before we are willing or able to put it into words. The jaw tightens. The shoulders become heavy. The stomach feels unsettled. Breathing becomes shallow without us even realizing it.
Meanwhile, we are still walking around saying, “I’m fine.”
This week’s prompt is not about assigning an emotional meaning to every ache or physical sensation. Sometimes discomfort is simply physical and needs proper medical attention.
This is about pausing long enough to notice yourself.
This Week’s Prompt
What has your body been trying to tell you lately?
Before you begin writing, take one quiet minute and notice how your body feels.
Where are you holding tension?
What feels heavy, restless, warm, numb, or unexpectedly calm?
Do not immediately try to fix it. Do not worry about whether your answer makes sense. Simply begin with:
If my body could speak, it would say…
Maybe it would ask for rest.
Maybe it would admit that something has become too heavy.
Maybe it would tell you that you feel safe, loved, or finally at peace.
Maybe it has been trying to say something you have been too busy to hear.
And maybe you will sit with the page and hear absolutely nothing at first. That is okay too.
Noticing is still a beginning.
We ask our bodies to carry us through so much. This week, let’s give them a moment to speak.
Please forgive me I thought I had posted this earlier in the week. It’s been an interesting one, but I’m back on the groove. I hope you enjoy. Thanks again for stopping by.
Back with another reflection for you.
Some weeks ask us to dig deep. Others simply ask us to notice.
Growth doesn’t always arrive with dramatic breakthroughs.
Sometimes it appears in the quiet moments: the conversation you almost avoided, the boundary you finally honored, the feeling you allowed instead of pushing away.
This week’s prompt is an invitation to pause and listen to the version of yourself that’s emerging now.
Take your time. There are no perfect answers here.
Only an opportunity to meet yourself with honesty and compassion.
There is a strange thing about heartbreak, disappointment, failure, and loss.
We spend so much time wishing we could erase those moments that we rarely stop to ask what they uncovered.
When life breaks us open, it exposes what was already there. It reveals the fears we have carried quietly. The stories we have believed about ourselves. The places where we still need healing. It also reveals something just as important.
Our strength.
I have learned that being broken is not always the end of something. Sometimes it is the beginning of seeing ourselves clearly for the first time.
The moments that brought me to my knees forced me to ask questions I had avoided for years.
Who am I when no one is cheering for me?
What do I truly want?
What parts of myself have I abandoned just to keep the peace?
Those questions were uncomfortable. Some of the answers hurt. But every honest answer brought me one step closer to becoming someone I actually recognize.
Growth is rarely loud. Most of it happens in the quiet moments when no one is watching. It happens when you choose yourself one more day. When you keep writing. When you keep praying. When you keep showing up even when you are exhausted and wondering if any of it matters.
The breaking becomes the teacher.
Not because pain is something we should seek, but because once it arrives, we have a choice. We can let it define us, or we can let it reveal us.
I think that is what Rumi was trying to remind us.
What breaks you also shows you.
It shows you your resilience.
It shows you your boundaries.
It shows you the dreams that refuse to die.
It shows you the person waiting beneath all the expectations, disappointments, and noise.
Maybe healing is not about becoming someone new.
Maybe it is about remembering who you were before you learned to shrink yourself.
Today, instead of asking, “Why did this happen to me?” try asking, “What is this experience trying to show me?”
The answer may not come today.
But if you stay open to it, one day you will look back and realize that what once felt like the end was quietly introducing you to yourself.
What has life broken open in you that ultimately helped you grow? I’d love to hear your thoughts in the comments.
And I don’t know about you, but that number made me stop for a second.
We are more than halfway through the year.
Remember those goals we wrote down in January? The promises we made to ourselves? The things we swore this year would be different about?
Where are we with them?
I’m asking myself the same question.
This isn’t about beating ourselves up for what we haven’t accomplished. But I do think it’s time to buckle down. To be honest with ourselves. To look at the year so far and ask:
What have I actually done with the goals I said mattered to me?
So, I’m making a conscious effort to share one journal prompt every week.
But I don’t want to just throw a pretty prompt onto the internet and disappear.
I’m going to work with the prompt too.
Throughout the week, I’ll sit with it, write through it, and see what comes up. Then, at the end of the week, I’ll come back and share some of what I wrote.
I’m doing this alongside you.
For week one, I’m asking:
What part of yourself have you been quietly trying to return to?
Will you give yourself those 5 minutes?
Maybe week 29 is the week we stop waiting for January to try again.
For the longest time, I thought my favorite part of traveling was arriving.
Standing in a new city. Feeling a different breeze. Watching strangers live lives completely separate from mine.
But somewhere along the way, I realized my favorite part actually begins months before I ever leave.
It starts with opening a dozen tabs on my computer, wondering what the weather will be like.
It starts with saving places I’d love to visit, restaurants I might never make it to, bookstores hidden on quiet streets, museums that somehow found their way onto my list.
Then comes the budget.
The puzzle of making everything fit.
Flights. Hotels. Transportation. Food. The little souvenirs that somehow become memories you can hold in your hands.
There’s something strangely satisfying about piecing it all together, knowing every dollar set aside is quietly becoming an experience I’ll never forget.
The anticipation becomes part of the journey.
Every countdown. Every itinerary. Every late-night search that begins with “What should I do in…” and somehow ends three hours later with twenty tabs still open.
Happiness for my soul
By the time I zip up my carry on, I’ve already traveled there a hundred times in my imagination.
But here’s what I’ve learned.
The places are beautiful.
The photos become keepsakes.
The sunsets eventually fade into memories.
What stays with me isn’t always what I expected.
It’s the conversations with strangers I’ll never see again.
The quiet moments sitting alone with a coffee, watching the world move around me.
Getting lost and discovering something I never would have planned.
Realizing how small I am in this enormous world and somehow feeling more connected because of it.
Every destination has quietly handed me something I didn’t know I needed.
Not souvenirs.
Pieces of myself.
With every trip, I come home carrying a little less fear, a little more wonder, and a reminder that life exists far beyond the routines I can so easily get trapped inside.
Maybe that’s why I keep feeling called to go.
Not because I’m running away from my life.
But because traveling reminds me how deeply I want to live it.
Wanderlust was never about collecting destinations.
It was always about collecting moments that made my soul feel awake.
Making moments count
And every time I return home, I bring back another piece of myself that I didn’t realize I’d been searching for all along.
Between work, life, writing, therapy, family, and trying to remember what day it is half the time, my brain felt like it had twenty tabs open and all of them were playing music.
So naturally, instead of doing what I was supposed to be doing, I ended up scrolling Instagram.
And that’s when I found an art installation called Clinamen.
Down the rabbit hole I went.
One post became another. One hidden place led to the next. Before I knew it, I had a list of places around NYC that I desperately want to visit this summer.
Maybe you’ll want to visit them too
Clinamen at Park Avenue Armory
This is the one that started it all.
At first, I was drawn in by the visuals. Hundreds of porcelain bowls floating across water, drifting into one another and creating patterns that are never quite the same twice.
Beautiful.
But what really got me was the meaning behind the word Clinamen.
It’s an ancient philosophical concept describing the moment something slightly deviates from its expected path.
Just a series of small turns that somehow lead us somewhere entirely different than we expected.
Next we have The Nicholas Roerich Museum
How have I lived in New York this long and never heard of this place? Hidden inside a brownstone on the Upper West Side, the museum is filled with mystical paintings inspired by the Himalayas, spiritual traditions, and landscapes that honestly look like they belong in another world. The best part? It’s free. The older I get, the more I appreciate places that allow you to slow down and just exist for a little while. This feels like one of those places.
Como Volverse Caudal (How to Become a Stream)
Even the name pulled me in.
This installation uses water, sound, sculpture, and movement to create an experience that feels more like meditation than an exhibit.
Water droplets become music.
Objects move with the rhythm of flowing currents.
Visitors are encouraged to sit, listen, and simply be present.
Imagine that.
An entire exhibit built around something we rarely give ourselves permission to do.
One place I’m been having my heart set on visiting for a while has been The Morgan Library.
The first time I saw pictures of it, I actually stopped scrolling.
Floor-to-ceiling books. Ornate ceilings. Spiral staircases. Rooms that feel like they belong inside a novel instead of the middle of Manhattan.
As someone who loves words, journals, poetry, and getting lost in bookstores, this place feels like somewhere I could easily lose track of time.
I already know I’ll probably walk in, stare at the shelves for a few minutes, and wonder how many stories have lived within those walls.
Sometimes the places we visit don’t just inspire us.
They remind us why we started creating in the first place.
Last but not least we have TheHigh Line.
I’ve been here before, but some places deserve repeat visits.
A former railway transformed into a public park feels like the perfect metaphor for life.
Things don’t always become what they were originally intended to be.
Sometimes they become something else entirely.
And sometimes that something is beautiful.
Maybe that’s why I keep coming back.
What I love most about New York isn’t the famous landmarks.
It’s the unexpected places.
The hidden museums.
The art installations that make you stop and think.
The libraries that smell like stories.
The quiet corners that somehow make the city feel a little smaller.
Maybe that’s what I’m looking for this summer.
Not a grand adventure.
Just a few small deviations from my usual path.
Who knows?
Maybe that’s where the best stories begin.
Have you discovered any hidden NYC gems lately? I’d love to add them to my summer list.
Honest storytelling as a form of healing. 