Occasionally, I like to open my old journals and read what I was thinking in an earlier time. It’s always amazing to see the stuff I used to worry about.

In year 8, I wrote how terrified I was when I was late to maths class. It was one of the first classes of the year and looking through the window outside, I saw the teacher had already begun teaching. I was too embarrassed to walk in and face the ridicule of everybody so I waited outside, trying to find an opening to sneak in when the teacher wasn’t looking. I think I would’ve spent the whole class outside if another teacher didn’t walk past and ask me what I was doing. Embarrassed, I walked in. The math teacher didn’t even look up.

In year 11, I wrote how frustrated I was that I wasn’t improving in a video game. “How did I lose 10 games in a row today? Either I’m the worst player ever, or I have terrible luck,” I wrote. That was it for that day’s entry.

In second year university, I wrote how neurotic I was about my grades. “I have ten lectures I need to watch by tomorrow”, I wrote at 11pm one night. “Time to get cracking.” The assessment was worth 15%.

Reading these entries made me smile. From my current perspective, these worries were hilariously unnecessary. Even though it felt dreadful in the moment, I wouldn’t feel much less stressed at these situations now.

One of the greatest benefits of journalling is the ability to find patterns in behaviour. And one resounding message that transpires from my records is that everything will be okay.

It will be okay!

You are breathing, you are safe, you are healthy. This problem you’re worrying about will probably be the same one you laugh about in a year’s time.

So let your neuroticism chill a bit. It will be fine.