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.
Some months begin with clear plans. Others begin with exhaustion, uncertainty, or the quiet feeling that something needs to change, even when we cannot name what it is.
These 31 Journal Therapy prompts were created to offer one small moment of reflection each day.
They are not about forcing an answer, fixing your entire life, or filling several pages.
Each prompt is simply an invitation to pause and notice what is happening within you and around you.
You can write for five minutes, fill an entire page, or answer with a single honest sentence. There is no correct way to complete the challenge.
Begin on the first day of the month, choose the question that speaks to you, or move through the prompts at your own pace.
I’ll be sure to share my own progress,as of course I’ll be is in the prompts myself.
31 Days of Journal Therapy
What deserves more room in my life this month?
Where have I been spending energy without noticing?
What feels easier than it did a month ago?
What part of my routine needs a small adjustment?
When do I feel most present during an ordinary day?
What have I been making more complicated than necessary?
Which feeling have I had difficulty naming lately?
What is one choice I can make without explaining it?
Where could I use more structure in my life?
What has been quietly helping me lately?
What do I need before I can fully focus?
Which responsibility feels heavier than it should?
What am I currently making space to learn?
When did I last feel pleasantly surprised by myself?
What would make this week feel more manageable?
Where am I asking too much of myself at once?
What conversation keeps continuing inside my head?
Which part of my day feels most like mine?
What have I recently discovered that I genuinely enjoy?
Where could I be more specific about what I need?
What does my body seem to be requesting today?
Which decision would benefit from more patience?
What am I doing out of habit rather than intention?
What would I like to experience more often this month?
Where have I noticed a change in my reactions?
What am I ready to approach differently?
Which small task would give me the most relief today?
What has my attention but not my commitment?
What boundary would make my days feel less crowded?
What did this month reveal about the way I live?
What do I want to remember as I enter the next month?
Before You Close Your Journal
You do not need to leave these 31 days with every answer figured out.
The whole point of these prompts is to go within.
The value is in noticing what appeared on the page: the thoughts that repeated, the needs you finally named, and the small truths that became clearer as you wrote.
Let the final page be a beginning rather than an ending. Return to any prompt that still has more to say.
Which question are you beginning with?
Journal Therapy is a reflective writing practice and is not a substitute for professional mental health care.
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.
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.
There is a misconception that before we choose joy, creativity, adventure, or growth, we must first set down everything heavy. As if life hands us a clean slate and says, “Now you may begin.” That has never been my experience. What I am carrying right now is not light. There are bills that do not care how tired I am. A deadline that sits in the corner of my mind no matter what else I am doing. Early mornings that begin while most of the world is still asleep. Conversations that are still unfolding inside my life.
Questions that have not found answers.
Responsibilities that do not pause because my heart needs a moment to catch up. Some days it feels as though I am carrying an entire house on my back. Yet somehow, I keep choosing things. I choose the poetry class. I choose to sit among strangers and talk about words as if they matter, because they do. I choose to keep building Lines Between Living even when no one is asking me to. I choose to write blog posts before dawn. I choose therapy. I choose difficult conversations. I choose hope when cynicism would be easier. I choose to make plans for a future that has not proven itself to me yet. The strange thing is that none of these choices make the weight disappear. The inquiries still exist. The bills still arrive. The uncertainty remains uncertain. The grief still taps me on the shoulder when I least expect it. The tension lives on. Maybe that is the lesson I keep resisting. Perhaps life is not asking me to become lighter before I move forward. Perhaps it is asking me to carry what I must and choose what I love anyway. I don’t know if that is strength. I don’t know if it is stubbornness. Most days I cannot tell the difference. What I do know is this: Tomorrow morning the alarm will ring long before sunrise. The responsibilities will still be waiting. And so will the poem. Both are true. I am carrying one. I am choosing the other.
It’s been like this for over a year. I said 2026 would be different, that I’d hit publish, that I’d push out each thing I created. All I see is the same as always. No comments. No sign that anyone needs me to keep going. And still, I try some more.
Maybe I’m not putting in enough effort. But it doesn’t feel like that, it feels like I’m creating, and creating and then once in a while someone will actually like something I’ve shared and that little flicker is usually enough to keep me going. I notice nothing seems to really hit.I can’t help but wonder if this is even something that should.
Nevertheless I still continue to push, because I believe in the work I want to share. I truly believe in journal therapy. It’s something in my own life that has truly helped me, and I want to be able to share that with people.
That what my PDF was always meant to be. A starter. A way to show people how easy it can be to begin. even when starting feels like the hardest part. It does like the hardest part. Once you start, it brings a kind of relief I can’t fully explain. That’s what I wish for anyone who comes across it.
There was a season where I kept showing up to my own life like a stranger. Going through every motion. Doing every task. And still feeling like I was disappearing.
Are ready to reset?
I want to be honest with you about that season, because I think you might know it too. The alarm goes off before sunrise. You make everybody else’s morning happen.
You hold the house, hold the family, hold the job, hold your tongue when you’re tired. And somewhere in the middle of all that holding, you forget to hold yourself.
That’s where this journal came from. Not from a place of having it figured out. From a place of being in it.
I needed something that would meet me where I actually was. Not where I was supposed to be.
I’ve been on a path toward becoming a journal therapy practitioner. That work cracked something open in me, because it showed me that writing isn’t just creative expression.
It’s a way of locating yourself. A way of asking: what do I actually think? What do I actually feel? What do I actually need right now, underneath all this noise?
And I realized I had never given myself seven consecutive days to just answer those questions.
seven days
That’s what 7 Days of Alignment is. It’s a guided digital journal, and each day has a specific focus: how you’re showing up, what you’re carrying, what you’re ready to put down, what you actually want. Real prompts. Not surface-level. Not “write three things you’re grateful for.” The kind of questions that make you sit with the pen for a second before you answer.
Seven days is not a transformation. I won’t promise you that. But it is a reorientation. And sometimes that’s the only thing standing between you and your own life.
I priced it at $7. On purpose. Because I know what it’s like to want something for your mental health and not be able to justify the cost. Seven dollars is a coffee. It’s a single song download. It’s the smallest investment you could make in yourself this week. I wanted the price to never be the reason someone didn’t try.
If you’ve been running on empty and wondering why nothing feels aligned, this is the place to start.
I’m not going to tell you this will fix everything. Life keeps moving, the lease still needs to be handled, the bills still arrive. But when you know where you stand inside yourself, you navigate all of it differently. You stop reacting from exhaustion and start responding from something steadier.
That’s what seven days gave me. I want that for you too.
I woke up early and I was excited. Doors opened at 10 but I knew better than to show up at 10. This was a convention people had been talking about for months. So I got there early, and sure enough, when I turned the corner to find the entrance, the line was already wrapped around the block.
I waited at least 45 minutes before they let us in. And when they did, it was a massive amount of people spread across four floors. All I could think was: we are all here for the same reason. We love books. That was it. That was the thread connecting every single person in that building. Later I found out that while I was inside in awe, absorbing everything, studying the room, people were online complaining that it was too crowded. And I understand that. But that’s not what this is about. This is about what it felt like to be in the room. I didn’t go as a fan this year. I went as a writer doing her homework.
I walked those floors with my eyes wide open, asking myself: what does this feel like from the other side of the table?
Because that’s where I’m headed. I told myself right there, out loud: next year, I’m coming back as an author.
I met some incredible people. I picked up books that called to me. I picked up a little Edgar Allan Poe magnet and now he lives on my writing wall, staring at me every time I sit down to write.
Only a matter of time
I sat on a Naturepedic mattress at a booth, held up a book, and let someone take my picture like it was the most natural thing in the world, because it was.
I stood in front of a backdrop that said I See Books In My Future and I believed it.
Con mucho amor. That’s what one of the authors wrote in my book. With much love. That’s the energy of BookCon, underneath all the crowds and the chaos. People who made things, sharing them with people who needed them. I needed this day more than I knew. The floor was packed. My feet hurt. I was tired before I even got there. And still, I left full. That’s the writer’s life, isn’t it? You show up tired. You find something that feeds you anyway. You go home and you write about it. See you next year. On the other side of the table.
Manifesting where I will be coming next year w my book
Honest storytelling as a form of healing. 