When people ask me what I do, I often hem and haw a little trying to figure out which identity to put out in the world that day. Am I an author, a minister, therapist, Uber driver for two kids, soccer dad, philosopher, pickleball coach? I am all these things and none of them depending on the moment.
It’s an interesting set of identity spaces to live in between. It’s the same for me when I think about diagnostic labels as well. I get the desire to professionalize the discipline, make us scientifically sound and predictable, we’ve been running that race for 70+ years now? And yet, those labels seem incomplete even as they might be helpful sometimes.
Labels can be weaponized as quickly as they can be soothing. Finding something we can rest with, a description for our constellation of features and quirks, can be liberating. Sharing that label publicly can saddle us with other peoples’ burdens and ideas about capacity, strength, and weakness.
So, it was a surprise to me when I ran across a label last week that struck me and stuck with me.
For as long as I can remember I haven’t been a big proponent of journaling. I don’t have anything against it mind you. To each their own. For whatever reason, I’m the person who attracts zealots. Occasionally, I’d run across one who thought journaling was some magical gateway to healing and be completely turned off by it.
I never discouraged journaling with my clients, just always encouraged thinking tactically about it. What are you seeking? What are you reflecting on? What are you hoping to learn? Otherwise, it would just be another exercise in futility.
I’ve always been a “know why you do things” kind of person. When we know why, we’re more likely to stick with it or at least understand why something didn’t work for us.
Anyway, back to last week. I was doing some research, and I ran across this term “journal-resistant.” Never has a term stuck with me more than that one.
Apparently, the people who research the efficacy of journaling as a therapeutic resource coined the term for certain people who resist the practice or effects of journaling. And, thus I became Jason, the journal-resistor.
That of course set off a whole series of reflections.
Is this space my journal? If so, what is my purpose here now? How am I using it effectively? Is this something different, a hybrid space where personal ideas meet professional identity? Is all of these or none of these? If this is a journal, then am I truly journal-resistant or am I more “journal purist averse”?
I’ve always been reflective, that’s woven into the fabric of everything I do, it’s a paralyzing and profitable way of being. Knowing why I do or practice or offer something to my clients or other people in my life runs like a background program in my mind. I’m constantly assessing and adjusting as I learn.
So, I’ve been chewing on this label, journal-resistant, for days now and I kind of like it. I think I like it because it thumbs my nose at the purists, but there’s something else there. I like tactical things, things that make sense and free form journaling doesn’t make sense to me.
That doesn’t mean it can’t be helpful to others, if it works for you, by all means don’t let me get in the way. Just don’t try and convince me that it is somehow magical. All that research I did? It doesn’t point to clinical efficacy. There are some benefits, but they’re modest not earth-shattering.
So, maybe I’m a proponent of tactical reflection, something targeted that teaches and trains. I don’t know yet, but I’m trying things on to see what fits…
Recent Comments