"I don’t know what I think until I read what I write"

There is a quote I often share with my patients when I’m encouraging them to journal:

“I don’t know what I think until I read what I write.”

Recently, I challenged a patient to start journaling — and to make it fair, I told him I would join him and provide proof. Not every day. Not even every week. Just when inspiration shows up.

Call it a journal, a manuscript, a love note… it doesn’t matter. You don’t have to write about feelings. Just write one thought, describe a moment, make a list.

-Write when a thought won’t leave you alone.

-Write what you wish you could say.

-Write what you don’t yet have the courage to speak.

Pen to paper. Fingertips to keys. Because sometimes we don’t know what we think… until we see it written out.

You don’t have to possess any certain skill of writing to simply put words on paper (or screen). I talk to patients a lot about “stretching our brains” by taking on a practice that is new. Journaling is a perfect example of a practice that can encourage this “stretching”. By putting thoughts into words and words on to paper (or screen), you are stretching those synapses in your brain that make new connections. You are building whole new synapses by opening your mind to new thoughts, new reactions, & new pathways of enlightenment.

Synapses are junctions in the brain where neurons connect and communicate,

enabling functions like learning, memory, and complex thought by forming vast

communication networks.

Building new bridges by taking on a new mental practice doesn’t always produce an immediate result, much like stretching our muscles. If you want to do the splits, you won’t see progress on day one. You show up, stretch a little, and repeat. Slowly. Consistently. Until one day, the change becomes visible. Mental growth works the same way.

Progress happens in small increments, built over time through repetition. We live in a world wired for instant gratification — and that makes slow practices feel uncomfortable. But our minds weren’t designed to thrive on immediacy. Writing is a form of brain stretch. It forces us to slow down, tolerate patience, and think more deliberately. Not easy. Not instant. But deeply effective.

So give it a try. Start small. Start easy. The important part is to just start.