4 questions I use to write and live in balance
I originally wrote today’s essay in April 2024, when I was deep into journaling, relatively new to copywriting, and sharing my reflections on both via my MailChimp newsletter (now defunct—subscribe to my Substack instead).
When I first came across it in my Notes app, I braced myself for the embarrassment that often comes with reading your old work. I was sure it would be bad, cringe, useless to me now. But as I read through it, I was surprised by how much my words still resonated with me two years later—and confident they would resonate with some of you, too. I knew I had to share it.
So here it is, the unedited version straight from my Notes app to you. I hope it helps you slow down, check in, and find even just a little more balance this week.
“Thank you so much for this last newsletter! I needed that slight change of perspective and I genuinely had an ‘aha’ moment when reading the rephrasing you are proposing here. Really love the turn you have taken in the past weeks—so grateful! 🧡” —Jo Bahdo
The last few weeks, I’ve written every single day. Ideas have been flowing, pieces have been coming together, and I’ve felt so aligned in my work and words that it’s been incredibly easy to show up and write—in my journal and in these emails.
Maybe that’s why I was so caught off guard when my therapist asked me how I was feeling on Tuesday and I burst into tears.
In that moment, I realized that for all the writing I’d been doing, I’d actually been doing very little checking in on the page. To-dos had replaced feelings. Future plans had replaced reflections. There was a part of me that needed my attention, and I’d been too busy to notice.
The balance was off, and I’d been writing so much so fast that I hadn’t even realized it until my therapist stopped me.
To be clear, I don’t think journaling needs to be self-reflective. Our pages don’t need to be full of emotions and feelings and trauma to be valuable. Sometimes it’s just not that deep, and that’s okay.
But I also don’t think that journaling should be only about productivity, self-growth, and hustle. Our pages don’t need to be full of lists and action steps and goals to be valuable, either. Sometimes it needs to be much, much deeper than that, and that’s okay, too.
If what you’re after is a healthy, happy relationship with writing that helps you have a healthy, happy relationship with yourself, you’ll need a bit of both. Soft and rigid. Emotional and stoic. Comfort and accountability. Too much of either will throw off the balance that makes writing such an amazing tool for self-care.
So today I’m going to play the role of my therapist and ask you: How are you feeling?
Please don’t rush past this. Really take in the question. Consider it. Write down the answer, if that feels good to you. Or reply to this email to share your answer with me.
Then use these questions to take it a little deeper:
Are you in balance, or are you leaning too far in one direction?
If you’re feeling out of balance, would more softness or more structure help center you?
Can you think of one small way to give yourself the thing you need to feel in balance?
I desperately needed a bit of softness to feel more balanced. So I wrote in my journal first, spent time with the small part of me that had burst into tears. Comforted it, reassured it. Then I went for a walk and laid in the grass in the sunshine.
The next day, I felt restored. Comforted. Ready to take another step on the path of work and writing. And confident that the next time I fell out of balance (because balance is always shifting), I could find my way back to center.
This is how we live and write in balance. Practice it, and you’ll always be able to care for yourself on and off the page.