Bandwagon, Month Eleven

For the first time in my life, I have filled up a notebook.

I have owned quite literally hundreds (if not thousands) of notebooks over the years. Most of them sit blank in an apple box in my parents' basement. The rest are scattered on bookshelves, on desks, in closets, in boxes, on average one-quarter to one-third full. There's always a new notebook that's more portable, more pages, easier to write in, prettier, less full of dated or irrelevent information... there was always a reason to get a new notebook, despite the dozens sitting at home in pristine condition.

When I got on the bullet journal bandwagon late last September in a desperate attempt to reclaim my mind from the black hole of isolation and depression, I expected more than anybody else did that I'd ditch it after a couple of months.

Yesterday, I started on the last page.

I don't know what to do now. Do you thank it for its service somehow? Do you say goodbye? Do you just pretend it's just another page and carry on into the next book as if nothing's happened? Do you write some kind of epilogue summing up this particular period of your life? What do you do at the end of a notebook or journal?

I generally do about a page a day, so today is almost certainly the final day with this pink Leuchtturm that's been within arm's reach for almost a year now. It holds my page count tracker from last NaNoWriMo as well as the hastily-written sketch for this year's plot (scribbled 'backstage' in the desert sand of an outdoor amphitheatre while I waited for my cue during my most recent show). It holds notes on several dance film projects in various stages of blockage (mostly because I am TERRIFIED to talk to people -- any people, even professionally -- since my last remaining friends absolutely ditched me at the end of November after telling me they'd always be there for me).

I will definitely be referring to this journal in the coming months as I try to bring at least some of these projects to completion, so (as my husband always says), it's not 'goodbye' so much as it is 'see you later.' But our relationship is definitely changing, and it does make me a little sad.

Thank you for being my friend and companion, even when nobody else would, even on the days I didn't want to make it out alive. I shall remember you always with fondness and gratitude.

Bandwagon Update

I've now been bullet journaling for four months.

I've invested in a Leuchtturm 1917 (in pink, of course), and it is being put to good use. I put my habit tracker in there, along with the NaNoWriMo word count tracker that you've already seen in previous posts. There's a month-at-a-glace page that I stole right out of Ryder Carroll's The Bullet Journal Method, and I merged that spread with a colour-coded budget and a three-point-daily mood tracker -- all on a two-page spread. It's a lot of information all in one place, but that's exactly the point. The colour coding helps a LOT and it's really helpful to have events, money, and mental health information for a full month all at a glance in order to see patterns (particularly since money is a very strong predictor for my mental health). I've put a suicide safety plan spread in there as well with things to try to distract myself, people to contact (with phone numbers), and a list of reasons to live.

I wouldn't say the impact on my life is dramatic, but it's definitely noticeable. I'm remembering things now -- to the point where if I tell my husband that I wrote it down in the book, he knows I'll remember. This was a man who could not (and I think still can't) wrap his head around the concept of needing to write things down to remember them; a man who used to get angry and frustrated with me multiple times every single day because I forgot something and he couldn't understand how I could forget such important things so often. We still argue, but it's far, FAR less than we did before I started bullet journaling.

In the daily logs, I've been marking things that made me happy with a pink heart instead of a bullet. Everything else in the daily logs is written in my black pen, so the pink hearts really stand out. I have an unofficial goal to have at least one pink heart bullet per day. Some days I really have to reach for it, and some days it doesn't happen at all, but it's something to strive for. (Today there will definitely be a pink heart because the local Tim Horton's had a sprinkle and jam doughnut for literally the first time since I moved here in summer 2020.)

My journal is still not flowery or a crash course in visual design and probably never will be. Just colour coding numbers for the mood and budget trackers are enough to keep me busy. But it's practical and everything is in one place, and those are more important to me than prettiness.

Probably the thing I like the most about it is the fact that everything is in one place. I used to have one notebook for dance videos in the works, one for dance class notes, one for choreography in progress, one for writing ideas, one specifically for Kyrie, one for 'random stuff,' one for journaling my actual thoughts and concerns, one for scheduling appointments, one for budget tracking... all of those have been condensed into a 250-page dot journal and a $3 pack of pens from Wal-Mart (the Papermate InkJoy coloured pens, which bleed a little and can be a tiny bit gloppy, except for the black, but the colours are amazing, the price is right, and I will not write with anything besides Papermate because I love the feel of their pens. I've been a Papermate devotee since my early teens and I will stop using them when you pry my Flexgrip Ultra 0.8 from my cold dead hands).

To be perfectly honest with you, everything that has happened to me since summer 2019 is a complete blank in my memory. I don't remember much of anything from 2020. I can only call up the very vaguest of memories from my own wedding in August 2020. A good part of 2021 is gone as well. By the time I finished an eight-hour work shift, I would not be able to tell you anything that happened at the beginning of the same shift. I couldn't even hold a conversation outside of my semi-scripted drive-thru order-taker conversations because the meanings of concepts and words were just -- gone (which in turn impacted my ability to make art and engage with the people around me, which pushed me further into depression and isolation). I had no past, and therefore no present and no future. I felt adrift in an endless ocean where time didn't exist. It was not freeing, as one would be inclined to think -- in fact, it was terrifying. When there is no time, there is nothing else. Nothing exists. It was like being stuck in an abyss. I was losing myself. I had no idea who I even was anymore because I had nothing to look back on, no reference point. Having this journal is helping me feel more grounded and like I'm an actual person rather than just a phantom in a shadowland. I have 'yesterdays' again now, and I didn't for two years. I'm only just starting to rebuild an awareness of myself as a real human being who exists in a real place and not a featureless ghost floating aimlessly in an endless cloud, and so far this journal is a large part in that.

Maybe I'll even manage to remember another update in a couple of months.

I Jumped On The Bandwagon

Originally written on 26 September 2021, 4.08pm.

I've recently started a 'bullet journal' (I use the quotation marks because it looks NOTHING like a 'typical' bullet journal). All it is is a dollar store notebook. I made an index at the front, a basic habit-tracker, lists with goals for September and October as well as the rest of 2021 as a whole, a page for tracking all bank account activity this month, and I'm doing a daily two-page spread for to-do lists, play-by-play of everything I did and said, and general infodumping. I'm also using it to track the crochet legwarmer pattern I'm currently developing. I haven't drawn in a calendar because it's too much work and honestly, I don't have much of anything to put in it until we've finally gotten the upper hand on COVID-19 and can actually revive the performing arts again.

I had five coloured InkJoy pens lying around that someone had given us. I'm not usually one for coloured pens (my weapon of choice is usually the PaperMate FlexGrip Ultra in black, with a cap, not a clicker, although a somehow picked up a black InkJoy 100 from somewhere and it has been making a very strong case for itself), but I use them to fill in the habit tracker and I've given colours to certain things like mental health status and choreography. I have to admit, the extra bit of colour is nice. This 'journal' is also MUCH lighter than the previous notebook I'd been carting around in my purse and I'm actually using this one as opposed to the last one.

One of my (possibly autistic) obsessions is notebooks. I literally have an entire apple box of UNUSED notebooks and journals at my parents' house, and probably at least a dozen at our place. I also suspect the act of handwriting is a stim for me. I've always felt a sense of security and comfort holding a pen, or even just having one nearby. I have a dozen pens in my purse at any given time, in case one dies or gets lost -- even though I am meticulous about where they are at all times. If someone borrows a pen from me, I will literally hunt them down for it the second they're done writing. If I lend you a pen, that means I trust you a LOT, and just know that my heart is in my throat from the second that pen leaves my hand until it returns to my hand.

All this to say that the rush of adrenaline that comes from having a brand new notebook in my purse that I can (and should!) write in all the time with pretty colours to boot is absolute euphoria for the very understimulated ADHD brain and the familiarity of notebooks and writing is soothing for the autism brain. Is the journal itself actually helping my ADHD symptoms? That remains to be seen -- I haven't been doing it long enough to find out yet.

That being said, reinstating a basic habit tracker into my life (I was doing one in my last year of college to prove to my profs I was actually practicing/trying to improve my skills -- it didn't convince them, of course, but it did help me stay on track and kind of feel better about myself... and Lord knows with those clowns as my profs, I needed all the mini-mood-boosters I could get) is helping a lot with getting back into choreography, specifically. There are other things I'm tracking, but that's the one seeing the most dramatic improvement so far. I've set the bar low (two sets of eight per day) so as to not scare myself off of any seemingly-impossible goals.  If I have ideas for more than two sets of eight, then I choreograph more than two sets of eight. But if not, then I will be happy with only two sets of eight, and I will count that as progress. I need to get my brain back into choreographic shape, the way it was in the summer of 2013. I went to college to improve my choreography, not kill it. Time to bring those five years of knowledge and experience (mostly experience) to bear.

(For example, just now I've been writing this entire post to put off my two sets of eight for today. I literally had my headphones on and my iPod and page of in-progress choreography in front of me, but I didn't have any ideas and was trying desperately to procrastinate. I've done the two sets of eight now and it literally didn't even take me ten minutes -- and this was a section I was struggling with. It's so easy once I just do it... I just had to persuade myself to make this one tiny goal. And if I hadn't made this one tiny goal for myself, this page would have sat there for literally months, if not years.)

I digress. I didn't really have a point to this post, I just wanted to write something (for once) and I felt like telling all the ghosts of people who used to use Blogger that I started a bullet journal experiment. I'll try to make progress updates, but we all know how good I am at those...