Notes to Myself (and Maybe to You Too)
Journaling: Writing for Clarity and Action
Welcome
This space is shaped by my rediscovered art of journaling — which is really just me arguing with myself on paper, except with better punctuation. Some notes are addressed to my former self (who thought “having a five-year plan” meant buying a bigger and better day planner), while others are from my future self — the wise woman who, I suspect, is mostly shaking her head and muttering, “Really? We’re still doing this?”
Journaling, it turns out, is my way of staying conscious — because otherwise I’d keep drifting in circles on the same lazy river – good intentions floating by with my half-finished to-do lists that are more likely than not about putting out fires rather than moving me forward on purpose. Writing keeps me a little more awake, significantly more intentional, and occasionally even insightful. Maybe you’ll find your way into your own pages here, too. Or perhaps you’ll just feel better about your to-do list. Either way, welcome.
Why this, why now
Here’s the thing: I’ve spent 58 years trying to figure out how to be a successful human. And I’m still not entirely sure I’ve cracked the code. Most days, I feel like a middle-aged freshman in the University of Life, carrying around an overstuffed backpack of regret, inspiration, and half-finished ideas.
But I have learned one thing: writing helps. Specifically, journaling. Scribbling. Notes to myself. And recently, while walking my daily 3 miles (yes, I track them, because if it’s not tracked, did it even happen?), I realized that I’m not just talking to my younger self — the one stuck in fear and perfectionism. I’m also listening to my future self. She’s out there, wise and weathered, sipping tea with God or the universe, and yelling across time: “Hey, you! Wake up! Try this! Stay focused. Like sands in the hourglass, these are the days of our lives (ok, that last part is soap opera inspired and not higher insight, but really it says it all).”
So, these notes are my attempt to capture that internal conversation. To write between the “me I was” and the “me I’m becoming.” To see what happens when you stop trying to save the whole world and start with your own messy desk.
The Back Row Crowd
I’m writing for the outliers. The misfits. The people who roll their eyes at “10 productivity hacks for high performers” because they’re just trying to remember what day it is. The ones who want to learn, but not in an “MBA PowerPoint deck” kind of way — more like around a kitchen table, with coffee & tea rings on the wood and stories that ramble a little before they hit home.
If you’ve ever felt like you don’t quite fit the “normal” business, wellness, or success box, you’re my people. If you’ve ever written something down to make sense of your own head, you’re definitely my people.
We’re going to blend journaling, story, a dash of data, and probably some self-deprecating humor (because if you can’t laugh at your own ridiculousness, what’s the point?).
My specifics
Here’s the plan: I’ll post once a week. Not every day. Not three times a week. Once. If I tried to write daily, you’d get a lot of notes that say things like “I should probably buy more spinach” or “Why do socks keep disappearing?”… and honestly, neither of us needs that.
But once a week, I’ll show up with something that’s part reflection, part story, part “journal experiment you might want to try.” Think of it as a cross between an encouraging note shoved under your door and a reminder that you’re not the only one wondering what the heck you’re doing.
So, welcome to Notes to Myself. If you stick around, I promise honesty, humor, and maybe the occasional metaphor about dreams of mansions with burgundy, velvet drapes.
And if this doesn’t work out, I guess I’ll start a Substack about the best lazy rivers for hot summer days.
Victoria