The Journal That Changed Me: A Journey of Healing

Let journaling become your sanctuary. A place where you are safe to feel, to ask, to release, to remember.

Journal Prompts

Every book I’ve read, every podcast I’ve listened to, every expert I’ve followed—they all say the same thing:

"Journal your thoughts."

And I used to roll my eyes. I mean, seriously—who has time to journal every day? And with a pen and paper? In this digital age?

But eventually, I couldn’t ignore it anymore. So many people I admired swore by the power of writing. They couldn’t all be wrong. And deep down, I wondered… What if they were right?

What I didn’t realize back then was that journaling wasn’t just about putting words on a page—it was about peeling back the layers of my own soul. It wasn’t about being eloquent or poetic or having the perfect pen—it was about being honest. Brutally honest. With myself.

Journaling became less about what I wrote and more about what I faced. The patterns I kept repeating. The emotions I tried to ignore. The dreams I was too afraid to admit I wanted. Each entry, even the messy, resistant ones, slowly pulled back the curtain on parts of me I didn’t know were waiting to be seen.

It wasn’t always pretty. But it was real. And for the first time, that was enough.

When I Said Yes

A few years ago, I joined Thinking Into Results, a program by Bob Proctor designed to shift your mindset and help you create real change. I agreed to go all in—100% commitment, no matter how uncomfortable.

Then I found out that journaling was a key part of the process. And my anxiety exploded.

I’ve never liked journaling. I’d tried it before and always quit. I told my coach Julie right away, “This part—I’m not sure I can do it. But I’ll try.”

And so I did. Reluctantly. Grumbling the whole way.

The first few weeks? months? Awful. It felt like monsters were crawling out of my pen—shadowy pieces of myself I’d tried to bury for years — old thoughts, fears, wounds I didn’t want to deal with. It was raw, messy, and incredibly uncomfortable.

But here’s what I learned:

Sometimes you have to let the monsters out before you can heal. 

Sometimes growth lives just outside your comfort zone.

This was not an easy path, especially because it took a long time to see the benefits. But I stuck with it.

And eventually… something started to shift.

Finding My Flow with the Moon

If you follow me on social media, you know I now post journal prompts; Moon Magic, when the Moon makes aspects to other planets. That rhythm—journaling with the Moon—became a lifeline.

When I started learning astrology, I completely fell in love with the Moon. The Moon changes signs every two and a half days and moves through all twelve zodiac signs each month. Suddenly, I had built-in journal prompts based on the Moon’s energy.

I began to align my journaling with these lunar rhythms, letting the Moon’s phases shape the questions I asked.

• 🌑 New Moon – What do I want to create?

• 🌓 First Quarter – Where am I facing resistance?

• 🌕 Full Moon – What am I ready to release?

• 🌗 Last Quarter – What lesson is trying to surface?

Each zodiac sign has its own emotional flavor, and by journaling with that energy, I was able to explore different areas of my life more deeply.

For example, Gemini days were all about curiosity. I’d have ten thoughts at once and dive into stream-of-consciousness writing. I’d ask: What’s distracting me right now? What am I overthinking? It was a chance to observe my mental chatter.

When the Moon was in Cancer, emotions would flood the page. Old wounds surfaced. I’d write about childhood, or ask: Where do I need more nurturing? Am I giving too much away emotionally without replenishing myself?

Leo brought self-expression to the forefront. My journaling leaned into confidence and creativity. I’d ask: Where am I dimming my light? What makes me proud? What part of me is ready to be seen?

Tuning into the Moon made journaling feel like a dance—with the cosmos, with my emotions, with the ever-changing tides inside me. It gave structure to the shapeless and turned self-reflection into sacred ritual.

And the cycle continues—each sign offering a different lens, a new doorway into myself.

By working with these energies, journaling never felt stale. I wasn’t just repeating the same reflections. I was exploring my life through twelve emotional windows, each with its own theme, rhythm, and message.

Let me be honest: the monsters kept coming out. But now I had a container for them. And that made it feel safer.

This wasn’t a quick-fix tool. It was a process. One that helped me connect with my authentic self—little by little, Moon by Moon, phase by phase.

The Most Personal Entry I’ve Ever Written

As powerful as journaling with the Moon was, I still didn’t write every day. Some days, I felt blocked. Uninspired. Lost.

Then my dad passed away. 

He was my rock, my go-to person, and suddenly, he was gone.

During that time, I started writing to him. Just to feel connected. And then something amazing happened—I started to write as if he were answering me back. I could hear his voice in my responses. It was comforting. Healing. Powerful.

That experience shifted something in me. It cracked open a door I didn’t even know was closed. Grief shattered my heart—but it also cracked it open wide enough for light to pour in. And through journaling, I found a new language for love. Writing to my dad began as a way to cope with grief, but it became so much more. It wasn’t just about pouring my heart out—it was about reconnecting with someone I loved deeply, someone who had always grounded me. In the quiet of the page, I could still hear his wisdom, his calm voice responding to my pain. And that changed everything.

As the months passed by, I started writing to other people too—mentors, guides, even versions of myself. Sometimes it was my younger self, the part of me that still carried fear or shame. Other times, I wrote to my future self—the woman I was becoming, the one I hoped to grow into. I’d ask her what she needed from me today, what lessons she had already learned that I was still working through. I began to feel like I was building a bridge across time, offering love and understanding in both directions.

I turned journaling into a conversation—not just with others, but with my own inner world.

And that’s when journaling truly became powerful. It was no longer a static list of daily thoughts or complaints. It became dynamic. Interactive. Alive. I started asking questions and letting the answers come, without judgment. I’d write back and forth between “me” and the voice of someone I admired, or even the energy of a planet I was working with. Some days I’d ask Saturn what I was supposed to be learning from a hard experience. Other days, I’d thank Venus for moments of beauty or connection.

When you treat journaling as a conversation, it opens space for healing. You're not just releasing—you’re receiving. Insight, comfort, clarity. You begin to realize you're not alone in your inner process. You’re supported. Guided. Heard.

And more importantly, you start listening—not just to what’s loud inside you, but to the quiet truths waiting to be acknowledged.

If you’re struggling to open up in your writing, I encourage you to try this: 

Write to someone.

Someone you miss, someone who inspired you, someone who always saw the best in you. 

It might just open your heart in a way you didn’t expect.

Naming the Emotion

The more I journaled, the more I realized I was developing emotional fluency. But I needed something more.

It’s easy to turn to a journal when life feels messy or overwhelming. But the real shift happens when you commit to writing through all of it—the good, the bad, and the beautifully mundane.

One of the most transformational things I’ve learned is the power of naming the emotion. In the beginning, my journal entries were often just a swirl of feelings—frustration, fear, sadness—without any real structure. It felt like I was getting it out, but not necessarily moving through it. That changed when I began to name what I was feeling, clearly and directly. The moment I started labeling emotions—grief, anger, shame, joy, hope—they lost some of their grip on me. They became something I could sit with, instead of something that sat on me.

And then astrology added another layer.

Working with the Moon’s energy, I began to associate those emotions with planetary archetypes. Astrology became a mirror for my emotions. The planets weren’t just symbols—they were energies I could talk to, learn from, even thank. When I was feeling burdened or overwhelmed by fear, I’d write, “Okay Saturn, I see you.” That small shift gave me perspective. It allowed me to look at fear not as a flaw, but as a teacher. Saturn helped me see where I needed structure, boundaries, or patience.

On days when I felt deep sadness or needed nurturing, I’d call on the Moon itself and write, “Dear Moon, what am I trying to protect?” If I was experiencing a burst of optimism or expansion, I’d acknowledge it with, “Thank you Jupiter.” Gratitude started to flow more naturally when I framed it through the energies that felt present.

By naming my emotions and the energetic forces behind them, journaling became less about “venting” and more about meaning-making.

Instead of just writing “I feel anxious,” I could explore: 

→ Is this a Mercury moment—mental overload or miscommunication? 

→ Is this Mars—frustrated energy needing a direction? 

→ Is it Neptune—foggy intuition, escapism, or emotional overwhelm?

This gave me a language that was deeply personal and yet cosmically connected. Over time, it helped me develop emotional intelligence—not just recognizing how I felt, but understanding where it came from and what I could do with it.

Naming the emotion gave me language. Naming the planet gave me perspective. Together, they helped me move through the fog and find meaning in the mess.

Breaking the Loop

After years of journaling, I hit another wall.

As I deepened my journaling practice, something unexpected began to happen: I noticed the same thoughts, the same fears, and the same situations showing up on repeat. Different days. Same story-line.

At first, I brushed it off—maybe it was just coincidence, or maybe I was stuck in a temporary funk. But the more I wrote, the more I realized: this wasn’t random. I was in a loop. And my journal had become a mirror, reflecting it back to me.

It was like hitting a wall, over and over again—wanting to move forward, but feeling held back by something I couldn’t name. The words I was writing were familiar because I hadn’t yet shifted the energy behind them.

That realization was uncomfortable, but it was also empowering.

Because the moment we see the loop, we can begin to break it.

That’s when I discovered the practice of cord-cutting meditation. This wasn’t just about writing anymore—it became a spiritual and energetic process.

I started to ask myself: 

→ Where is my energy leaking? 

→ What belief or relationship am I unconsciously feeding with my attention? 

→ Am I ready to let this version of the story go?

I would identify the story—whether it was about unworthiness, rejection, or fear of failure—and visualize the energetic cord attached to it. Then, with breath, intention, and more than a few tears, I would write myself into release. Sometimes it was a full ceremony. Other times, a single sentence in my journal was enough: “I’m ready to let this go now.”

It wasn’t a one-time fix. Just like the journaling journey itself, this was a process—peeling back layer after layer, cutting one cord, then another. But with each one I released, I felt lighter. Clearer. Closer to the truth of who I am without the weight of old patterns.

Journaling helped me see the loops. 

Naming the emotion gave me clarity. 

Cord-cutting gave me freedom.

And most importantly, it reminded me that I am not my stories. I am the storyteller. And I always have the power to write a new chapter.

From Resistance to Ritual

Journaling didn’t come naturally to me. In fact, it came with resistance, avoidance, and more than a little internal eye-rolling. I told myself I didn’t have time. That I wasn’t a “writer.” That it just didn’t work for me.

But looking back now, I can see the resistance wasn’t about journaling—it was about what journaling would ask me to face.

And still, I kept showing up. Bit by bit. Scribbled lines. Half-finished thoughts. Pages written in frustration or grief or boredom. I didn’t realize it at the time, but something sacred was starting to take shape.

Journaling shifted from something I had to do into something I got to do. It became a morning whisper, a quiet companion. I began to look forward to that time with myself, when the noise of the world faded and the truth could rise up. It became a way to honor my emotions, track my growth, and reconnect with the cycles of nature—especially the Moon.

It became a ritual.

Not a perfect one. Not always poetic or beautiful. But deeply personal. Honest. Alive.

That’s the power of journaling. It isn’t about crafting the perfect entry. It’s about creating space to listen—to your emotions, your intuition, your healing, and your wisdom.

What once felt like a chore became a devotion—a quiet, daily homecoming to myself.

Your Journey Can Begin Today

If you’ve struggled with journaling… you’re not alone.

If you’ve told yourself you’re too busy, or that your thoughts are too messy, or that you don’t know where to start—I see you. I’ve been you. And I want to gently remind you that you don’t have to start big. You just have to start.

Write one sentence. One emotion. One question. 

Write to your future self, to someone you miss, or to the Moon. 

Write like no one is watching—because no one is. Except your soul, quietly waiting for you to check in.

I am now offering a monthly Journal Inspiration guide on my website, where you’ll find daily prompts inspired by the Moon’s movement and energy. Some days there will be one suggestion, others may have a few, depending on the Moon’s aspects. These are here to support you, to help you connect inward, and to make journaling feel less like guesswork and more like a path back to yourself.

Whether you write every day or once a week, it’s not about perfection. 

It’s about presence.

Let journaling become your sanctuary. 

A place where you are safe to feel, to ask, to release, to remember.

Let it be the space where you grow. Where you rise.

Where you come home—again and again—to the truth of who you are.

Love, Light, Much Gratitude ♥️

Pamela

If you'd like to delve deeper, I invite you to connect with me

About the Author

Pamela is a certified Reiki Master / Teacher, Soul Coach Practitioner®, Astrologer dedicated to supporting others on their healing journeys. Since beginning her own path of spiritual awakening in 2020, she has focused on helping clients quiet mental chatter, deepen self-awareness, and reconnect with their inner guidance. Through her writing, guided meditations, and energy healing work, Pamela offers practical tools for personal transformation and emotional clarity.