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Journaling & Other Acts of Bravery

My struggle with anxiety, depression and firstborn daughter syndrome is unique, of course, but it is universal, too, in the way that every firstborn daughter's tale of healing resonates with every other one. I learned how similar we all are over the course of my healing and self-discovery journey, and my work as a wellness coach to firstborn daughters.

Too many times I have been silenced by the familiar shame and guilt they have carried. I have cried with many of these women as they shared and journaled their way to healing and self-mastery. I gripped them to my chest, tears dripping down the front of both of us, while they downloaded the emotional wreckage of their lives. I have bitten my tongue so that I wouldn’t gasp at some atrocity an adult survivor of trauma was sharing.

More than once, I have cried myself to sleep over the misery of another woman’s life. All in all these experience has, strengthened me and eased my sense of isolation.


Since I am a writer, it's probably no surprise that I wrote to try to make some sense of what was happening to me and the women with similar stories. I obsessively researched the dysfunctional upbringing, self-destructive people pleasing tendencies and eventual descent into burnout, and chronic mental health struggles. I am not the first writer for whom this work became a bludgeon with which to battle a terrible enemy, as well as an expurgation, a grasping for something (anything) fathomable amid calamity, and an agonizing process by which the brain organizes and regulates experiences and emotions that overwhelms it.

Other writers' work helped, too. It's not only that misery loves company, because (I learned) misery is too self-absorbed to want much company. Others' experiences helped with my emotional struggle; reading, I felt a little less crazy and less alone. Their written works also served as a guide in uncharted waters.

In the end, all my efforts were successful. I rescued myself and most of the women that trusted me with their healing in the twelve week coaching program I launched two years ago.


I was terrified to invite people into the nightmare that was addressing my trauma and conditioning, and admitting to the role I had played in my misery, but was compelled to do so. I was nervous about exposing myself to public scrutiny and judgement but I felt that telling my story would be worthwhile if I could help anyone in the way that other writers had helped me. So each week on this blog, I shared all the lessons I was learning from the journey of healing and find myself.


In my writing, coaching program and wellness journals, I have strived to honestly include the major events that shaped me and my clients—the good and the appalling. Much of it makes me cringe when I look back. I am aghast at so much of what I did and, equally, what I did not do. Even though all the experts kindly tell us to be compassionate because we aren't always to blame, I have not let myself off the hook. I often feel as if I completely failed myself for engaging in people pleasing, not standing up for myself often enough or letting my once justified anger build up to rage and resentment, but then again I was still just a child. In admitting this, I am not looking for sympathy or absolution, but instead stating a truth that will be recognized by most firstborn daughters, or women who have been through this.


In my story, I hope that there may be some solace, some guidance, and, if nothing else, some company. It has taken years, but all of those different approaches I have tried on my healing and self-mastery journey have left me with an assortment of techniques and reminders that keep me sane, healthy, happy and optimistic. They can the same for you.

And even though I know that there's no single right way to heal, nor even a clear road map for healing, healing usually starts with one act of healing.

Over the course of my healing journey and my work as a coach to firstborn daughters, I have heard from firstborn daughters and their families—their brothers and sisters, children, and other relatives, and, most of all, parents. A few respondents were critical. One accused me of refusing to heal and move on because to them publicly sharing my story was me choosing victimhood, not to mention betrayal of those involved. Another, outraged at my description of childhood trauma and conditioning because to them, I should only feel gratitude since there are people in another corner of the world going through worse. Others felt that I shouldn't be over it already. But the great majority of feedback has been outpourings of compassion, consolation, counsel, and shared grief. Many people seemed to feel that finally someone understood what they were going through. They were relieved to learn that they are not alone in their suffering. For whatever reason, a stranger's story seemed to give them permission to tell theirs. They felt that I would understand, and I did.


"Hi, your content has been one of the most relatable things I have seen. Thank you for having a voice, even for those who haven't found theirs yet. I'm a firstborn daughter in therapy thank to you. I appreciate your content, keep going."


Another said; "Your content summarizes one profound quote I have learnt that changed my life-It is our duty to unlearn all the harmful thinking inherited from past generations that was packaged as wisdom.

Thank you."


Each week, emails and DMs still interrupt my days with beautiful reminders of the impact of my written works. My heart tears anew with each of them. I'm so grateful, that's why I keep writing and, through the painstaking process, I have had lots of success viewing my experiences in a way that made sense to me—as much sense as is possible to make of trauma. When I transformed my random and raw words into sentences, sentences into paragraphs, and paragraphs into chapters, a semblance of order and sanity appeared where there had been only chaos and insanity.

It still scares me to hit publish on a blog post but with the continued encouragement, I go forward. This led to the ten wellness journals I have thoughtfully designed.


Notes: All journals are available on Amazon


6. THE LOVE & RELATIONSHIP JOURNAL


10. THE GRIEF JOURNAL

Writing a journal – this harmless, portable, virtually cost-free and mild-mannered ‘interest’ – can literally be life changing. It can be the companion you need whatever life is bringing you. It can also be addictive, surprising, moving, illuminating and tremendous fun. It can deliver a vast array of invaluable new insights.

It lets you ‘read’ your own life even while you are writing it. It lets you see the world around yourself more richly and deeply. The familiar can become newly strange; the strange can become familiar. It supports you to value your own history, judgements, values and opinions. (After all, no one knows you better than you know yourself. But sometimes you need to discover what you know.) It can give you an invaluable sense of being at the centre of your life rather than at the periphery.

At the same time, and even when you remain at the centre of your own writing, it may make you less anxiously ‘self-centred’ or self-concerned. And it will certainly let you know who and what are really important to you. Journal writing can make you grateful for the life you are living – with all its complexity. It can make you laugh, seethe, cry, howl, rejoice. It can bring to life your artist’s soul. It can make you honest. It can give you a greater sense of choice about how you are living your life.


This is your sign to begin the brave act of healing through journal therapy. Happy journaling!



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