We could just give you twelve journalling prompts. A nice list. Something to screenshot and forget about, like all the other prompt lists saved somewhere on your phone.
But those posts get read and never implemented. The prompts sit there, beautiful and useless, next to the £24 notebook gathering dust in the drawer.
So instead, let’s try something different: a way of journalling that isn’t really journalling at all. Once you understand the method, the twelve prompts we share here (or any others you’ve collected over the years) actually become usable.
A different starting point
The Japanese have a word, hansei, for structured self-reflection built into the workday. Not therapy, not meditation. A deliberate pause to ask: what worked, what didn’t, what needs adjusting. It’s baked into Toyota’s manufacturing process, into school routines, into the rhythm of how things get done.
We don’t have this. We have “you should journal more” and a blank page that feels like an accusation.
Here’s what’s strange, though. We can talk about ourselves endlessly to a friend over wine. We can dissect our feelings in a rambling voice note. We can identify exactly what’s wrong while staring at the ceiling at 2am. The self-awareness is there. The raw material exists.
But hand us a blank page and suddenly we’re auditioning. Wondering what the “right” answer is to “how do I feel today?” The inner editor arrives before the first thought is fully formed.
Writing activates the parts of our brain involved in performance and evaluation. We compose, judge, delete. Speaking bypasses this entirely.
The sixty-second voice note
A forty-second voice note, recorded while walking to the car or waiting for the kettle, captures something raw. We ramble. We contradict ourselves. We stumble onto truths we didn’t know we had.
Here’s the important part: we never have to listen back. The capture is the point. Not the archive.
sia.bartrum@gmail.comWhy sixty seconds? Because it’s roughly how long we can hold a thought before the inner critic fully wakes up. Sixty seconds is enough to name something. Not enough to spiral into solving our entire life.
This is the difference between processing and ruminating. Processing moves through. Ruminating circles the same groove endlessly.
Short capture forces processing. The thought has somewhere to go that isn’t our 3am ceiling.
Four ways to capture (pick one)
- Voice notes work best when we’re moving. Walking, driving, waiting. Record, don’t listen back, move on.
- Photos capture what words miss. The state of our desk at 4pm. The light in the kitchen that made us pause. Sometimes a picture holds more emotional information than a paragraph.
- Taps and checkboxes suit the days when words feel impossible. A number out of ten. An emoji. Did we drink water, yes or no.
- Two lines, maximum. What happened, how it landed. “Difficult call with Mum. Feel weird. Not sure why yet.” That’s a complete entry.
One method per day. Switching eats the energy we’re trying to protect.
The prompts
These aren’t inspirational. They’re diagnostic. Each one points attention somewhere specific and asks for a signal back.
When we’re running on fumes
Where do I first feel it in my body when I’m running low? Not “tired” (we’re always tired). The specific tell. The shoulders. The jaw. The moment patience runs out three seconds earlier than usual.
Whose feelings am I carrying right now that aren’t mine? We absorb things. Our sister’s work stress. Our partner’s Sunday dread. Sometimes the heaviness isn’t even ours.
What actually restores me versus what just numbs? The phone numbs. The right podcast restores. We know the difference; we just reach for numbing because it’s faster at 9pm.
When the head won’t quiet down
What thought has moved into my brain without paying rent? There’s always one. Taking up space, offering nothing. Sometimes naming it out loud starts the eviction.
If my inner voice had a tone right now, what would it be? Record this one. Listen to the tone, not the words. Harsh? Exhausted? Sounding like a disappointed teacher from 2003?
What actually works to reset me when I’m overstimulated? Not what should work. What does. Organising a drawer. Chopping vegetables with no podcast. The stupidly simple thing our brain can finally relax into.
When everything feels like too much
When did I last feel like myself, and what was I doing? Specifically. What were we wearing. What had we just eaten. The details help locate something we can find again.
What do I do when nobody’s watching and it doesn’t count for anything? That’s probably closer to who we actually are than the curated version everyone else sees.
What would today look like if I didn’t need to impress anyone? Sit with the gap between that answer and our actual schedule.
When we’ve gone missing
When did I last feel like myself, and what was I doing? Specifically. What were we wearing. What had we just eaten. The details help locate something we can find again.
What do I do when nobody’s watching and it doesn’t count for anything? That’s probably closer to who we actually are than the curated version everyone else sees.
What would today look like if I didn’t need to impress anyone? Sit with the gap between that answer and our actual schedule.
The smallest possible response
After a week of sixty-second captures, one pattern will emerge. Something that repeats. A word, a situation, a feeling.
We don’t need to analyse it. Just notice.
Then: one adjustment. Under ten minutes. Something we could manage on a day when getting dressed felt like enough. Water before coffee instead of after. Laptop closed at six-fifteen instead of six-forty-five.
Micro-shifts. Not lifestyle overhauls.
Smythson Chelsea notebook
Quiet‑luxury notebook for one intentional line per prompt
Now you can use any prompt
This is the thing about the method: once you have it, any journalling prompt becomes usable. The ones we’ve shared here. The ones bookmarked on Pinterest. The ones from that workshop three years ago.
Sixty seconds. Voice, photo, taps, or two lines. One tiny response.
The woman with preferences and instincts and actual opinions about what she wants for dinner hasn’t gone anywhere. She’s just gotten quiet under all the managing and coping and keeping everything running smoothly.
She doesn’t need an elaborate system. She just needs us to check in.