One Line a Day (Keeps the Troubles Away)

For the month of October, I decided to try something out that’s not new or novel but that I’ve never done before. Each day, I’m writing in my journal at least one sentence to capture something from that period of 24-hours. Sometimes it’s two sentences. There have been a few instances, thus far, where it’s even three.

This technique is often recommended to folks as a way to begin a journaling habit, which is something I think, from time to time, that I want to get back into. Once upon a time, I was an avid journaler. It was either my junior or senior year of high school (I’d have to go back and look at the dates in my very first diary) I set a New Year’s resolution to diligently keep a journal, and I did. From then all through my college career. A journal was a staple to what I carried around in my backpack, and I filled many, many pages. Red ink was my preference, and, oh, the number of red pens I went through.

And then, out in the adult world, the habit fell away. Finding time to journal became more and more difficult. I don’t have to think long and hard about it to figure out why.

You see, class time was when I did the bulk of my journaling. I was a good student, but I didn’t like being in school. To get through certain tedious, boring classes, then, I’d open my little notebook and do my own thing. I hope teachers thought I was simply an avid notetaker, and I’d sell that fabrication by, every so often, pausing in my writing, looking up, nodding at whatever they were lecturing about, and then go back to my page. 

Now I have six or seven completed journals capturing those collegiate years. At the beginning of this year, I took a peek at a few of them, and it’s a funny thing to now be so removed from what once was happening in my life and took up so much of my time and thoughts. I remember feeling so deeply about certain things, being troubled so entirely, and having whole seasons of my life shaped by things that no longer impact me. 

Of course, I can see how the past, though it may be behind me and done with, lingers, in its own way, through growth and lessons I had to learn so that, technically, I am still impacted but in a more passive sense.

Beyond that, though, is having an appreciation for taking the time to jot down thoughts and impressions from those days. It’s a recounting of my life, in my own words, that I read now and look back and feel the writing was meant to be a gift to my future self. 

Which is why I, as a proper adult, always mean to start journaling again. I bought a fresh notebook right before my husband and I spent our year in Germany because I was determined to document that experience. What happened? I was faithful to those pages at the beginning but then lost steam rather quickly. I tried to retroactively recap things in there, but even that petered out.

I don’t have an easy answer as to why that’s the case, but, lately, I’ve wondered if it’s because I feel like I have to sit down and spend a great chunk of time with my journal for it to be worth it. That if nothing “exciting” or “interesting” has happened from day to day then I shouldn’t make note of it. 

So, committing to one sentence every day lowers the stakes. It can take all of a minute, or I can reflect on what did occur that I might want to capture in words.

I also must check myself, when I think of the “exciting” and the “interesting” because those are relative measures and descriptors. I know that life is composed of more than the big and overtly vibrant moments, and I definitely delight in the little things throughout my day. And those little things are worth the ink just as much as anything else is.

Some people don’t find value in journaling, but, for me, it really comes back to what I mentioned before—it’s like a gift to the person I will be down the road. Documenting this one and precious life is an act of devotion, of committing to living presently and deeply. Because it requires you to stop, observe, and reflect. I don’t write daily thoughts because I think I’ve got the most important, poignant things to say. I desire to re-form this habit because I want to cherish my days.

I recently had this thought: Wow, it’s crazy that it’s almost been a year since we got back from Germany! It’s almost like I have no idea where the time’s gone, that old cliché. I think, too, about only three months remaining in 2026. It’s what life does—it moves—but I don’t want it slipping away.

And what have I managed to keep from falling through the cracks of memory, anyway?

I’ve opened a tan journal with shiny cacti decorating the cover, and it’s August 23, 2017. Here’s how this entry’s begun: “I’m writing from the top of a mountain, which is something I’ve never done before.” 

I spent that day with friends and Mt. Katahdin, and “the view is breathtaking. And not just at the top, either. There’s this blue haze that settles over the horizon; it makes me sleepy. Lakes and ponds stretch out below us, and there are pine trees upon pine trees. I love the pines.”

The entry after that I’m in Acadia National Park with pals, sitting at Sand Beach and writing from there. It pleases me to have this to look back on:

There are so many people here, and I like that they’re all delighting in the ocean, too. It’s a bit chilly, I think, though I know it’s only going to get colder from here. But I am so anticipating this coming chill. I think I will spend the rest of my life thriving in the colder months and longing for their return when they’ve left me.

Soon it’ll be October and the leaves will change and I will feel as though I’ve come home to myself after being away for a while.

Or what about this little gem I left myself at the end of this journal, the last words I wrote down before I moved onto my next one: “May you find laughter in the midst of broken days,” which is an anonymous quote I picked up somewhere. Past-me must have thought that nugget worth saving, and I quite agree with her.

Now, I’ve got these October days to store away more gems, and I’m grateful for it. My decision to do this small thing—and my reminder to you today—is that it’s never too late to love your life a little more, and it doesn’t have to be some big, grand gesture or adventure. It’s as simple as one line a day.