Earlier this week I was cleaning and organizing my studio space and came across my first art journal, the one that got me through a pretty intense period of healing. I had forgotten it was there. That forgetting is something. The journal sits on the shelf, and the pain sits there with it, outside of me. It's a reminder that it has somewhere to live that isn't my heart.

"You've got to let it go," my therapist said this week. She's right. But grief doesn't move on a schedule. After slipping into old patterns and leaving work early one day because the feelings were too much, I had an idea: what if instead of being consumed, I gave the pain somewhere to go?

After years of journaling to process grief and self-acceptance, I realized writing was keeping me stuck in loops. So I started painting over my words. The words don't disappear – they peek through the paint, transformed into something I can live with. This is how I share my healing without it being loud.

Art Journal Entry No. 18: ultramarine outlines, orange, and white flowers that pop. A quick reflection on what I was exploring, what I loved, and what I’d change next time.

I painted a field of flowers in my art journal this week. Painting them felt like a moment of clarity, not the full picture of where I’m going, but a glimpse that my art journaling is part of a much larger picture.

This entry began as a reflection on overwhelm, but became something quieter. A return to softness, to the parts of me I once hid, and to the steady work of becoming myself.

Why do I paint in a composition notebook nearly every morning? Because art journaling helps me process emotions, release what I’m holding, and stay grounded. Here’s the story.