Why I Journal — And What It’s Really Done for My Mental Health

This post talks honestly about mental health and difficult periods in my life. If you are struggling, please reach out to someone you trust or contact the South African Depression and Anxiety Group at sadag.org.

Journaling for mental health didn’t come naturally to me, but it ended up changing more than I expected.

I have a very busy mind. I am a restless person, always needing to feel productive, always moving, always thinking. And while that can work in my favour, it can also be deeply unhealthy.

I overthink. Especially when something hurts me or upsets me. For a long time, I never spoke up about it. I would take the criticism, absorb the hurt, swallow whatever was thrown at me and say nothing. Just bottle it up. And smile. And carry on.

But I was hurting myself.

I would find myself in a dark place that detached me from everything around me, my kids, my life, and the good that was right in front of me. I struggled to fall asleep. I would wake up in the middle of the night with my thoughts already running. The same feelings replaying over and over, wearing me down. Not feeling good about myself and feeling misunderstood. Deeply unhappy. And deeply unappreciative of everything I actually had.

The Book That Changed Things

In 2021, I came across Robin Sharma on YouTube. His videos resonated with me in a way that felt personal, like he was speaking directly to where I was. So I bought his book, The 5 AM Club, and it was one of the best decisions I made that year.

I started his method almost immediately, and it was a start to the healing journey for me. I was finally doing something for myself before the day had the chance to take everything from me. I got so disciplined about it that it became the anchor I didn’t know I needed.

And the journaling, that’s where everything started to shift.

This Is What Journaling for Mental Health Did for Me

You know when you have a song stuck in your head, and you eventually decide to just listen to it, and all of a sudden it’s gone? That’s what journaling was like for me.

I would write pages and pages of thoughts that kept replaying. Conversations I’d had, scenarios, sometimes completely random things that had nothing to do with my life. And the moment I wrote them down, it was like magic. Gone, I just didn’t think about it again. Sometimes something would still come up, but briefly, differently, not the relentless loop it had been before.

It also helped me process my feelings and actually understand them. Why I felt the way I felt. What I was going to do differently. What I wanted to say that I had never been able to say out loud. Everything I had bottled up for so long was finally being released, through my pen, onto paper.

It kept me grounded. Journaling for mental health kept me present. And for the first time in a long time, it gave me a voice.

When Life Got Harder Anyway

But journaling couldn’t fix everything.

My father and I had always had a difficult relationship, and it was actually this rough patch with him that led me to journaling in the first place. Things got harder before they got better.

Around the same time, I bought an apartment in Muizenberg. Interest rates were low because of COVID, and it seemed like the right move. Almost immediately after the transfer went through, rates started climbing. My bond went up. My levies. My rates. I had taken out a loan to cover the transfer fees, and that kept growing, too. I was supporting my kids alone with no financial contribution from their father, managing a relationship that had its own complications, and slowly drowning in a financial decision I couldn’t undo.

Eventually, I had to sell the apartment for less than what I owed on the bond. I still carry that debt today.

The relationship ended, too. We had stayed together far longer than we should have, trying to keep alive what had already died so long ago, hoping something would change. It was emotionally and mentally draining, giving everything to something that wasn’t meeting me halfway and losing myself completely in the process.

My father passed away during all of this.

And I had to keep going. Because I’m a mom. And moms keep going.

Where I Am Now

I’m not saying this is the answer for everyone. I’m not here to tell anyone what to do or how to live. This is just part of my journey and what it taught me.

Today I am wiser, stronger and braver than I have ever been. I am in control of my own life in a way I wasn’t before, and that didn’t come from things getting easier. It came from me deciding who I was going to be on the other side of all of it.

I am more at peace with who I am and where I am. I have reached a point where very little disturbs that peace anymore, especially things outside of my control. I’ve stopped wasting energy on what I can’t change and started protecting what I can.

I no longer allow people into my life who don’t add value or who don’t have my and my family’s best interests at heart. My circle is small, and I am strict about who gets access to my time and my energy, and that same intentionality has quietly shaped how I live, too. If something doesn’t serve me well, I don’t do it. If someone doesn’t treat me well, I don’t keep them close. It’s that simple now.

I’ve learned to say no. I’ve learned to speak up when something hurts me instead of bottling it up until it consumes me. I’ve learned to stop being submissive to people who haven’t earned that from me. And I’ve learned that protecting your peace isn’t selfish, it’s survival.

I am no longer ashamed of my life. Nobody knows what I’ve been through to get here. And that’s okay. I know. And that’s enough.

For the Woman Reading This at Her Lowest

I know what feeling worthless feels like. I know what waking up every day wishing you were living a different life feels like. I know what it’s like to lie awake going over every bad decision, every wrong turn, every moment you wish you could take back.

But I also know what taking control of those feelings looks like. And I want you to know that it’s possible.

It’s empowering. It’s courageous. And it’s the most peaceful I have ever felt.

Being at peace, I think, should be everyone’s goal. Not pleasing others. Not living up to someone else’s expectations or standards. Not shrinking yourself to fit into spaces that were never built for you. Because trust me, that is where you lose yourself. And when you are down and lost, that is when you realise that no one has you the way you have yourself.

Everyone’s story is different. No one can write yours for you.

So find what brings you back to yourself. Whether it’s journaling, music, prayer, walking, whatever it is,  find it. Protect it. And don’t let anyone tell you what you need to do to feel whole again. Only you know that.