Your head feels like a crowded toolbar. Tabs open for the dentist appointment, the half-written email, the WhatsApp you forgot to answer, the thing your manager hinted at in passing, and that small domestic panic about an empty milk carton. Mental load isn’t just stress — it’s the invisible admin of being alive. And it leaks into every corner of your day, humming at low volume until it spikes. Journaling is the surprisingly unfancy way to turn that hum down.
On the 08:12 to Victoria, a woman in a navy coat balances a notebook on her knee. She doesn’t write beautifully. She writes like someone trying to catch a fast dog. Lines jump, words double back, arrows point to arrows. The carriage rattles, coffee sloshes, and yet something settles as her pen keeps moving. People around her scroll, yawn, stare into middle distance. She looks… lighter. She closes the notebook on a coffee ring and breathes out, like a diver breaking the surface. What did she just do?
Why writing things down frees up space in your head
Your brain is a brilliant storyteller and a terrible storage unit. It keeps rehearsing tasks so you won’t forget them, running loops even when you’re trying to sleep. Writing interrupts this rehearsal. It gives each thought a chair to sit on. And the act of moving a worry from mind to page convinces your nervous system that the item is being handled, not ignored. That’s the quiet magic of journaling — not drama, just relief.
Take Priya, a project lead in Bristol who started a two-page nightly “brain dump”. She wrote everything: code reviews, birthday cards, call Mum, post the returns label, buy loo roll, plan Q4. In one small study on expressive writing, people who wrote for 20 minutes a day across four days reported fewer intrusive thoughts the following week. Priya found the same. By day five her mind stopped poking her at 3 a.m. about the parcel. The list hadn’t shrunk. But her mental noise had.
There’s a name for this: the Zeigarnik effect — our minds obsess over unfinished tasks. When you journal, you mark a task as “parked” in a safe place. Your brain relaxes because the loop is closed for now. And those loops take energy. Offloading them restores working memory, which is why your thinking feels clearer right after you write. This isn’t about the perfect notebook; it’s about giving thoughts somewhere to land.
How to journal when your brain is busy and your day is full
Start with a six-minute reset. Set a timer for two minutes of raw brain dump — scribble everything circling your head. Two minutes to sort — circle what matters this week, cross out the noise. Two minutes to choose — pick one next step for tomorrow and one tiny win for today. Close the notebook. You’re done. It sounds almost insultingly simple. It works because it’s short, repeatable, and kind to tired minds.
Make it messy on purpose. Use bullet fragments, arrows, half-sentences. Don’t wait for morning pages, a fresh journal, the right pen. The trick is consistency-ish. We’ve all had that moment where life swells and any “routine” collapses under the weight of a bad Tuesday. Soyons honnêtes : personne ne fait vraiment ça tous les jours. Keep it forgiving. If you miss a day, write “Back again” and move on. No guilt tax.
A good journal entry does two jobs: it empties and it organises. Start with feelings and fragments, end with two or three choices that feel doable even on a wet Wednesday. You’re not writing literature. You’re making mental shelf space.
“Write to unload, not to impress. The page is a workbench, not a gallery.”
- Brain dump: two fast pages, no filter, cross out duplicates at the end.
- Three lines a day: What happened? What mattered? What’s next?
- Worry window: Park every worry on paper; schedule 10 minutes to revisit.
- Wins log: One thing you handled, one kindness you gave, one to try tomorrow.
- Bullet journal lite: Tasks, events, notes — keep symbols simple and few.
From pages to breathing space: make it yours
You don’t need a perfect ritual, you need a place to return to. Maybe it’s the kitchen table before the kettle boils. Maybe it’s the bus, or the car outside nursery, or five minutes after you drop your bag by the door. Keep your kit unimpressive — a cheap notebook, a pen that doesn’t skip, a notes app if that’s what you’ll actually use. The goal is a small daily truce with your thoughts. Keep it light. Keep it yours.
| Point clé | Détail | Intérêt pour le lecteur |
|---|---|---|
| Journaling empties mental loops | Writing “parks” tasks and worries so your brain stops rehearsing them | Feel calmer, think clearer, sleep better |
| Short, repeatable routines win | Six-minute reset: dump, sort, choose next steps | Easy to do on busy days, builds momentum |
| Make it messy, then actionable | Fragments first, two or three concrete choices last | Less overwhelm, more traction in real life |
FAQ :
- What if I hate writing by hand?Use your phone’s notes or voice-to-text. The act of externalising matters more than the medium.
- How long should I journal?Five to ten minutes is plenty. Stop when you’ve chosen your next small step.
- What do I write about?Start with “What’s in my head right now?” then add “What’s one thing I can do today?”
- Will journaling fix my anxiety?It can lower mental noise and help you spot patterns. It’s not a replacement for professional support.
- How do I keep it going?Anchor it to something you already do — morning tea, commute, lunch — and keep your tools close.
Super clair! J’ai testé le “six-minute reset” ce matin: 2 min vidage, 2 min tri, 2 min choix. Résultat: j’ai arrêté de penser au mail en boucle et j’ai dormi déja mieux la nuit dernière. Merci!
Le Zeigarnik effect expliqué ici me parle, mais j’aimerais voir les références exactes. Vous mentionnez “une petite étude” sur l’écriture expressive: auteurs? année? échantillon? Parce que beaucoup de trucs “productivité” sonnent bien et puis s’effondrent quand on regarde la méthodologie. Si vous avez des liens (même vers des revues systématiques), je prend. Aussi, est-ce que l’effet persiste au-delà d’une ou deux semaines, ou c’est juste un boost court terme?