How Journaling Became a Gentle Friend on My Grief Journey

I’ve always enjoyed writing, but I haven’t always kept a journal. 

I had tried a few times here and there, but it wasn’t a practice that ever stuck.

Until two weeks after my Dad died. A trusted mentor made the suggestion to me: 

“Have you considered journaling?”

At first, I couldn’t imagine writing anything.

Everything was too raw, too painful, too fresh. And if you find yourself in that same space, I encourage you to be gentle with your heart and give yourself time if needed. 

But somehow, within the next couple of days, I had ordered a journal, I opened it up, and I met that blank page face to face. 

Before I knew it, the words began pouring out. 

Words of pain and lament.

Words of honest doubt and fear.

Words of anxiety and discouragement. 

Words of processing.

Words of healing. 

Photo by Ashlyn Ciara on Unsplash

It became a daily rhythm for me, a way to start out my morning. 

And as my heart felt ready, I started to add other things to it: reflections, prayers, scripture readings, gratitude lists, and hopes and dreams. 

Something that I think is so cool about journaling is that it can be whatever you want it to be:

In fresh pain, it can be a place you start to overflow the contents of your hurting heart. And it can be an extremely helpful tool as you walk through that pain with a counselor, support group, or other trusted friends as well. 

In fear, it can be a place to cry out in prayer and to be honest about your doubts. (I truly believe that the Lord is so tender with us and makes space for us to bring ALL of our emotions to Him.)

And in time, it becomes a roadmap: of all the places you’ve been, the tears you’ve cried, the prayers you’ve said, the frustrations you’ve felt, the hardships you’ve faced. 

On the inside cover, I always write the date and the number journal I’m on. 

I’m currently on journal number ten. 

But I remember a time I was cleaning, and I stumbled upon journal number one.

When I opened the first page and started reading, I felt a lump in my throat, and the tears started to surface. 

Those pages were raw and real reflections on the immense pain of grief. As I read them, I could remember exactly what that felt like and exactly how those same feelings sometimes resurface even now. 

But as I read them in that moment, years into my grieving experience, I noticed another story starting to surface: hope. 

Hope because this was the beginning of the story of how a broken heart would find ways to navigate this uncertain terrain.

Hope because of trusted support systems and counselors who helped every step of the way.

Hope because despite the non-linear ebb and flow of grief, joy started to trickle onto the page. 

Hope because grief is an ever-evolving experience, but we can honor our processing day by day. 

Each journal has been a huge part of my processing. 

It has given me a safe space to be honest with myself, honest with God, honest with grief. 

It has given me a place where I could go when I needed to allow feelings to overflow onto a page so I could see them better and start to process them. 

And now, it gives me the chance to see this journey for all that it is: the pain, the loss, the doubt, the faith, the growth, the hope…

but most importantly:

the love. 

Photo by Kelly Sikkema on Unsplash

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Question:

Have you ever tried journaling? If so, what has been your experience? If not, is it something you’ve ever wanted to try? Please feel free to share your thoughts in the comments.

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