Chasing Away the Darkness

It’s been almost eight years since I started getting up early—4:30 on workdays, 7-ish on weekends—to pour a glass of homemade cold brew, snap on the desk light, and start writing. The sky is still as dark as my coffee and there’s a long day ahead, but I’ll always choose journaling over warm blankets and more sleep. There is that literal and metaphorical darkness to chase away.

I’m working on my 17th journal. At 480 pages each, that’s a hefty number of pages, but the only one that really matters is that day’s blank page. I start with the date and the weather and my Sleep Score from the Sleep Number app [Is it possible to achieve a 100 Sleep Score??] then launch into a dream recap with all of the technicolor angst my dreams are known for.

It kind of amazes me that I haven’t gotten sick of this. Not once.

There are days when I sit down with seemingly nothing to say, but once the ink flows, the thoughts do, too. As the ink shines and sheens, the pages fill up with memories, delights, humorous encounters, pep talks, frustrations, fears, and nonsense. There’s always something to explore, something to poke at. I keep scribbling as the sky slowly brightens. Aha moments bump right up against pure foolishness and become fast friends. All thoughts are welcome here. So much repetition—in eight years how could there not be?—but the page doesn’t care and is excellent at keeping its mouth shut.

Your secrets are safe here.

Every day. A jumble of words and thoughts and ideas and plans spill onto that page. Relief. Peace. Gratitude. Prayer.

And light. Even in the depths of winter, I can find the light if I just write long enough. Trust me. It’s there.