Psychology Today | 24.10.2026 22:48
Fifty years ago, when I was 17 and in rehab, my therapist gave me a journal. Her name was Norma. She suggested that I write one page every night. At the time, I barely knew who I was or where my life was headed. I was learning about myself and about recovery. I had no road map and little reason to believe things would work out. I never imagined a journal would become part of my life for the next five decades.
