I Sat on Publishing This Journal for Years.

I waited way too long to push this out. Not weeks. Not months.

Years.

The funny thing is, creating the journal wasn't the hard part. The hard part was letting other people see it. For years, I had a proof copy of my 90 Day Gratitude Journal sitting on my desk. I'd pick it up, flip through the pages, convince myself I needed to change one more thing, and then put it right back down.

I told myself I was waiting until it was better.

• Until it was perfect.

• Until I had more time.

• Until I felt more confident.

If you have ADHD, you probably know exactly how this story goes. Sometimes perfectionism wears a very convincing disguise.

• It calls itself "just one more edit."

• It calls itself "I'm not quite ready."

• It calls itself "I'll publish it next month."

Then next month quietly turns into years. Then something happened that I wasn't expecting. I started sharing my journal confessions.

I admitted that I own an embarrassing number of beautiful journals. I compared them to Beanie Babies because apparently my brain thinks some notebooks are too nice to actually write in. I confessed that my favorite "journal" is actually a cheap white steno pad.

And you showed up! You messaged me with your stories. You laughed at my posts about treating journals like collectible Beanie Babies. You admitted your planners mysteriously end in February. You confessed to buying another beautiful notebook because this one was definitely going to change your life.

Over and over again, I heard the same thing. "I thought I was the only one."

That's when it hit me. This journal had been sitting on my desk for years because I was afraid it wasn't ready. Meanwhile, the people I created it for were telling me they needed it.

So I stopped waiting. Not because the journal suddenly became perfect.

Because perfection was never the point.

The whole reason I created this journal was to help people like me let go of the pressure to journal perfectly.

It would have been pretty ironic if perfectionism kept it hidden forever.

Is this journal perfect?

Probably not. But it's real.

It's what I do every single day.

Some days my answers are thoughtful. Some days they're as simple as "my coffee stayed hot" or "Rosie made me laugh."

Some days I miss a day. And then I come back. No guilt. No starting over. No pretending I have my life perfectly together.

Because if this crazy ADHD brain, juggling a wonderfully crazy life, can consistently come back to a simple gratitude practice, then maybe someone else can too.

If you've ever bought a beautiful journal with the best intentions...

If you've ever missed a few days and quietly put it back on the shelf...

If you've ever convinced yourself you'd start again on Monday...

I made this journal for us.

It's finally out in the world, and I hope it gives you the same thing it gave me:

Permission to begin again.

Love,

Brooke

P.S. If you decide to give it a try, I'd love to hear your story. Something tells me I'm not the only one with a shelf full of beautiful journals.