Lately my TikTok and YouTube feeds have been filled with junk journaling and bullet journaling videos. The soft music. The aesthetic spreads. The perfectly placed washi tape. The hand-drawn headers. The layered papers and curated stickers.
And every time I watch one, I think: That looks so relaxing.
I genuinely love the idea of both.
Bullet journaling feels structured and creative at the same time. Designing each monthly spread from scratch? Choosing color themes? Hand-lettering the titles? That sounds like the perfect blend of productivity and art.
Junk journaling feels like creative freedom. Collecting scraps. Designing die cuts. Layering textures. Making something beautiful out of randomness. It feels nostalgic and expressive and calm.
I want that.
But here’s my reality.
I bought printable bullet journal pages off Etsy in 2022. I printed them. Bound them. Gave copies to my mom and sister-in-law for Christmas. I had such good intentions.
I barely filled mine out.
My mom filled out even less.
My sister-in-law was the overachiever who kind of kept up with it.
Then I bought a pre-made bullet journal thinking maybe the simpler route would help. And it did — sort of. I’ve been more consistent with it. But I still don’t use it the way I imagine I would.
In my ideal world, I’d hand-make each month’s spread. Carefully color it in. Track goals. Reflect weekly.
In my actual world?
It’s mid-January and I still haven’t finished scrapbook pages from October. I haven’t even started November. Or December. Or January.
Meanwhile, life is full:
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Sending silent auction donation requests
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Planning a February music convention trip
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Figuring out vacation plans
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Covering coworkers when they’re out
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Band board meetings
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Rehearsals
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Concerts
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Dinners with friends and family
None of these things are bad. In fact, they’re wonderful.
But they’re time-consuming.
And that’s where the tension lives.
I don’t actually lack interest in journaling.
I lack margin.
The Fantasy vs. The Function
I think what I really love about junk journaling and bullet journaling isn’t the productivity.
It’s the aesthetic calm.
It’s the idea of sitting down with nowhere else to be. Of creating slowly. Of choosing colors just because they feel good together. Of doing something that doesn’t need to be efficient.
But here’s the question I’m starting to ask myself:
Do I want to journal… or do I want to feel unrushed?
Because those are two very different things.
Maybe It Doesn’t Have to Be All or Nothing
Maybe I don’t need a 12-month, perfectly hand-drawn bullet journal.
Maybe I need:
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One creative spread a quarter.
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A 20-minute “junk page” once a month.
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Permission to use a pre-made journal without guilt.
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A smaller notebook just for messy, imperfect creativity.
Maybe I need to stop trying to live like someone whose full-time job is aesthetic content creation.
Because it’s not.
I have a full, layered, meaningful life.
And maybe the goal isn’t to add another beautiful system.
Maybe the goal is to protect my energy enough to enjoy the life I already have.
The Honest Conclusion
I still love the look of junk journaling and bullet journaling.
I still might do it.
But maybe I don’t need to become “a journal person.”
Maybe I just need to carve out small creative moments — without turning them into another commitment.
Because if it starts to feel like another obligation?
It stops being relaxing.
And that defeats the whole point.
