(and Why That’s Okay)
If you’ve ever opened an old journal and instantly closed it again — heart racing, stomach tightening — you’re not alone.
Maybe you’ve asked yourself, “Why can’t I read this?” or even, “What’s wrong with me?”
Everywhere you look, journaling is praised as the ultimate self-care tool.
Therapists recommend it. Wellness blogs swear by it.
You’re told that if you just write things down, clarity and calm will follow.
Journaling can be a beautiful tool for mental health — but only if it feels safe to do.
But what if rereading your own words doesn’t feel healing at all?
What if it makes you cringe, or ache, or shrink a little inside?
The truth is simple: nothing is wrong with you.
That discomfort is not a flaw — it’s a quiet sign of growth.
When Rereading Brings Up Shame
I’ll be honest — I’ve always found journaling difficult.
Not because I don’t like writing, but because rereading what I wrote makes me feel small.
Ashamed, even.
There’s something so exposing about meeting your past self on the page.
You see the fears, the overthinking, the tenderness — all written down in your own hand.
And suddenly, you’re back in a story you’ve already lived.
For a long time, I thought that meant I was doing journaling “wrong.”
But I’ve learned this: that reaction isn’t a flaw.
It’s simply a sign that you’ve changed — and you will keep changing.
Just because you feel steadier now doesn’t mean your story is finished.
When you open old pages, you meet a version of yourself that no longer fits — someone who was still learning what you now know.
It can be uncomfortable to look back at that person.
But you weren’t failing.
You were doing your best with what you had.
You don’t have to reconnect with that version of yourself; you can thank yourself for getting this far.
Every step you’ve taken since has carried you closer to who you are now.
So if rereading your journal feels heavy, it’s not because something’s wrong.
It’s because you’ve grown.
And that’s what growth feels like — tender, humbling, and quietly brave.
Reframing Your Relationship with Your Past Self
Sometimes the quiet judgment we hold against our past selves can sabotage the whole practice of journaling.
When you know that your future self might judge your words, you start editing them as you write.
You hold back honesty because you don’t want to look “dramatic” or “silly” later.
And when rereading becomes painful, you start avoiding the notebook altogether.
The very thing that was meant to help you process your feelings turns into a mirror of self-criticism.
But healing doesn’t grow from judgment — it grows from compassion.
Here are two gentle shifts that can help you build that compassion — easing the sting of rereading if you ever choose to look back:
Practice Compassionate Detachment
When you read an old entry, imagine it was written by a younger sibling or a dear friend.
See the pain or confusion in their words, and notice how your instinct is to comfort, not criticize.
Then extend that same tenderness to your past self.
You were doing your best with what you had — and that deserves compassion, not judgment.
Adopt the “Lesson-Learned-Only” Rule
If you feel compelled to reread, skip the details and focus only on the outcome.
Ask yourself two simple questions:
- Did I survive this?
- Did it pass?
Almost always, the answers are yes and yes.
Your old entries become proof of resilience — quiet reminders that you’ve lived through hard things before, and you’ll do it again.
Writing as Release, Not Reflection
We often think journaling is meant to be analysed — that its purpose lies in rereading, dissecting, and learning.
But there’s another way.
Writing can be an act of release.
You can write simply to let something go — to give your thoughts a safe landing place.
You can whisper your truth onto the page and then close the notebook, trusting that the act of writing was enough.
Not every word we write is meant to be read again.
Some are meant to be written — and then left to rest.
Gentle Practices for Releasing What You Write
If rereading feels too heavy, try these small rituals that make journaling softer and safer:
🌿 Tear-out pages
Write what you need to say, then remove it. Tear the page out, burn it, or recycle it. The act itself can be cleansing.
🌿 Letters to your past self
Write to the version of you who needed those words. Seal the letter and never open it again. Let it be a quiet act of compassion, not analysis.
🌿 A “Not for Rereading” notebook
Create a space where you can write freely, knowing no one — not even you — will go back. Label it clearly. Give yourself full permission to write without judgment.
🌿 A closing ritual
After writing, place your hand gently on the notebook. Take a breath. Whisper a thank-you — to your present self for showing up, and to your past self for surviving.
Alternatives and Adjustments to Traditional Journaling
If rereading doesn’t feel right but you still crave the clarity journaling can bring, there are gentler ways to do it.
You can soften the practice — reshape it until it fits you.
Adjust Your Journaling Style
The “Daily Dump”
Let the words pour out exactly as they come. When you’re done, if it feels right, destroy the page. Watch the words turn into peace.
The “One-Sentence Summary”
After a long entry, capture one gentle line that holds the essence of what you learned. Keep those single sentences in a small notebook — your “pocket of insights.”
Future-Focused Journaling
Instead of writing about what happened, write about what you hope will happen — how you want to feel tomorrow, what kind of energy you want to bring into your day.
Alternative Tools for Self-Reflection
Voice Memos (Audio Journaling)
Speaking can feel easier than writing. You still process your emotions, but without the urge to reread later.
Bullet Journaling or Tracking
If words feel heavy, track your days instead:
- Mood tracking: rate your day 1–10.
- Habit tracking: check off grounding habits.
- Gratitude lists: note three things you’re thankful for.
Creative Outlets
Paint, collage, or doodle your feelings instead of writing them. Creativity is journaling too — it just speaks in another language.
The gentle truth is this: your journal is there to serve you, not the other way around.
Whether it’s a single sentence, a sketch, or a whispered audio note — what matters is that it helps you breathe again.
Healing Doesn’t Always Need to Be Reopened
You don’t have to reread to heal.
You don’t have to prove your growth by analysing the pain.
Your words already did their job — they carried what you couldn’t.
They gave shape to feelings that needed somewhere to rest.
So if looking back feels too hard, it’s okay to close the book.
You’re not running from yourself.
You’re choosing peace.
Some stories close themselves.
Some chapters can stay gently shut.
For When You’re Ready to Begin
If you feel ready to start journaling this way — softly, without pressure or perfection — it can help to choose a notebook that feels like an invitation, not an obligation.
I love this handmade journal from Etsy — simple, calming, and beautiful for a “write and close” practice.
(As an affiliate, I may earn a small commission at no extra cost to you. Thank you for supporting The Gentle Path.)