When I got COVID, I barricaded myself in my room for two weeks to make sure I didn’t pass on the virus to anyone else, including my dogs. I enjoyed the solitude the first few days, working when I had the energy, listening to podcasts, watching all kinds of shows, trying to read, comparing symptoms with fellow patients. But eventually, the knowledge that I was trapped in my messy room, no matter how much I loved it, started to weigh on me.
Going a little stir-crazy, I tried to find other ways to keep myself occupied. I started junk journaling in my Traveler’s Notebook. Junk journaling is the love child of scrapbooking and journaling. You put together your writing and scraps of paper, ephemera and other found materials in a notebook or scrapbook or planner of your choice. There’s no pressure for your output to be pretty and polished (unless you want it to be). Naturally, I started with the wrapper and instructions of my antigen test and the packaging of the meds I was taking.
Days into my cutting and taping frenzy, I realized that I had so much junk that I could journal. Over the years, I had amassed five overflowing memory boxes—that’s just a nice name I gave boxes I use for throwing into all kinds of memorabilia and stuff I don’t have the strength to get rid of.
Junk journaling the contents of these boxes would be triply beneficial: I’d be keeping busy, I’d actually put a little order in my life and, maybe, just maybe, I can finally use my closet for clothes again.
Just sorting through the boxes took me a couple of days—there were all kinds of things in there: boarding passes, letters, playbills, tickets, maps, confetti and more. I categorized them into destinations and themes and soon it became clear that this was a project that would go beyond my quarantine days.
I ordered supplies from Shopee, Scribe and Analogue Lab—kraft paper inserts, double-adhesive tape and glue sticks—and got to work.
Soon, I realized there was an added benefit to junk journaling—the process felt therapeutic and soothing. It became my favorite way of relaxing. It was so relaxing that I continued to do it even after I was free to leave my room any time I wanted.
Journaling as therapy
Several appointments ago, my psychiatrist suggested that I go back to journaling as a form of therapy. I don’t think this is what she had in mind but it’s really working.
I completed a Disney-themed book, chronicling my adventures at different Disney parks and the D23 Expo. I filled pages with my moments as a “RuPaul’s Drag Race” fan. I devoted books to trips to different places.
It’s not the output that’s most satisfying (although it is nice to see my growing collection of thick, memory-filled Traveler’s Notebooks on my shelf), the best part is the process.
When I bring out my wooden box and set out my scissors, my photos, my memorabilia, my stamps, my washi tapes, I feel a sense of calm. For the next minutes (or an hour, if I’m lucky), it’s just me and blank pages, waiting to be filled with memories.
Sometimes I do just a few pages, sometimes it becomes a junk journaling marathon. When I get tired, I stop. I never force myself to finish a book. This is supposed to be fun, I remind myself, when the urge to complete hits. There should be no pressure.
After almost two years of feeling stuck, it feels good to look back at a time when things were simpler, when we were freer, when the world felt like our playground. It’s a chance to be grateful for days we’ve already lived and hopeful for the ones that are coming.
Now I totally understand why there’s a huge scrapbooking community all over the world, including the Philippines. I watch YouTube videos and look at the Instagram reels of some of them for inspiration.
A number of friends and family members who’ve heard about my little project have been saying the same thing: “I have tickets and other things from my travels, I wish I could do that.”
Of course they can, I say. And you can. Do it while streaming your shows. Do it while listening to podcasts. Do it while chitchatting with your family members. You don’t need special tools, you don’t even need art skills (I don’t have them—I failed fourth grade art and yet I’m having a blast). Start with what you have at home.
My hope is to convince enough of my friends to form a scrapbooking/junk journaling club so we can get together and have scrapbooking sessions together. It’s a solitary process that can be a fun social one, too.
