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21/11/2025

You don’t have to have it all figured out.
You don’t even have to be sure what’s next.

There’s beauty in being in progress —
in showing up,
in staying curious,
in letting the next chapter reveal itself one line at a time.

Perfection is a performance.
Progress is a conversation.

📓 Journaling Prompt
What part of my life is still unfolding — and how can I meet it with curiosity instead of control?

You don’t need to be done to be real.
You just need to stay in the story.

20/11/2025

Your truth doesn’t need to be loud to be real.
It doesn’t have to convince anyone.

It just needs to be lived —
in the choices you make,
the boundaries you keep,
the words you finally write down.

You don’t owe the world a performance.
You owe yourself honesty.

📓 Journaling Prompt
Where in my life am I ready to live what I already know?

When you stop performing your truth,
you begin to inhabit it.

19/11/2025

You don’t always notice growth while it’s happening.
It shows up quietly —
in how you speak to yourself,
in what you no longer chase,
in the peace you feel where anxiety used to live.

Change doesn’t always need to announce itself.
Sometimes, it just settles in and makes a home inside you.

📓 Journaling Prompt
What’s one way I’ve quietly changed this year?

You don’t have to become someone new.
You’re already becoming more yourself.

18/11/2025

When life feels too full,
the first thing to disappear is usually your own voice.

It doesn’t vanish — it just gets buried under everything else:
obligations, noise, expectations, endless doing.

Writing helps you listen beneath all that.
It’s not about escaping the noise,
but about remembering what’s real underneath it.

📓 Journaling Prompt
What truth have I been too busy to hear lately?

You don’t have to chase clarity.
It’s already waiting inside you.

17/11/2025

It’s easy to lose track of yourself in the middle of everything —
plans, noise, other people’s needs.

But there’s always something steady underneath it all,
a pulse that stays even when everything else shifts.

For me, writing is that pulse.
Every time I return to the page, I find my way back.

That’s what we practice each month inside Inner Door Journeys —
the art of listening, writing, and returning again and again.

📓 Journaling Prompt
What helps me return to myself when the world feels too loud?

You don’t have to hold everything.
Just find one place that holds you.
https://www.skool.com/the-inner-door-journeys-5692/about

Join monthly guided writing journeys to explore within, gain insight, and move into what matters.

14/11/2025

Some days, the return to yourself is quiet.
A deep breath before answering a message.
A walk without your phone.
A single sentence in your notebook that feels real.

These moments may look small,
but they’re what bring you back.

You don’t have to turn your life upside down to change it.
You just have to keep showing up for what’s true.

📓 Journaling Prompt
What small act helps me return to myself when I feel scattered?

The world moves fast.
You don’t have to.
Your pace can be your power.

12/11/2025

It takes courage to stay open when you don’t know what comes next.
To keep your heart unlocked, even when part of you wants to close the door.

But that openness — that willingness to keep listening —
is what allows something new to find you.

Writing is one way to stay open.
Each word you write is a small act of trust:
a way of saying I’m still here.

📓 Journaling Prompt
Where in my life am I being asked to stay open, even when it feels uncertain?

You don’t have to be fearless.
You just have to stay present.

12/11/2025

From lost to grounded. From uncertain to self-led.

That's not a quick fix. That's a journey.

And every step counts. 🪞

Storywork isn't about finding all the answers at once. It's about witnessing your own movement—one reflection, one action, one revisit at a time.

Small shifts. Visible progress. Real change.

Find your way back, one story at a time.

11/11/2025

Sometimes we look for insight like it’s hiding somewhere far away,
when the truth is already sitting quietly inside us — waiting to be seen.

You don’t always need a plan or a new idea.
You need a page,
a pen,
and the courage to look at what’s been here all along.

Writing doesn’t give you answers.
It gives shape to what you already know.

📓 Journaling Prompt
What truth in me has been waiting to be seen?

You might not recognize it at first.
But when you write it down, you’ll feel it.
That’s how recognition begins — not loud, but clear.

11/11/2025

Pause here.

What's one small thing you've noticed about yourself this week? Not something you think you *should* notice. Something real.

Write it down.

That's the beginning of reconnection. 🪞

Your writing becomes a mirror.

10/11/2025

There’s always a point in every journey where the next step isn’t clear.
You can see where you’ve been,
but not yet where you’re going.

That’s not failure — that’s the in-between doing its work.

Uncertainty doesn’t mean you’re lost.
It often means you’re closer than ever to the truth that wants to meet you next.

📓 Journaling Prompt
What part of my life feels uncertain right now — and what might that uncertainty be teaching me?

You don’t have to have answers.
You just have to keep listening.

10/11/2025

What if trust could be rebuilt quietly?

She arrived feeling uncertain, unsure of her next step. After her first storywork reflection, she made a list of three gentle actions. Two weeks later, she returned to her words—and found she'd done all three.

The real surprise? She saw her own progress. In that moment, something shifted. She realized she could trust herself again.

Sometimes, movement is quiet. It happens in the space between intention and return.

If you’re longing for a gentle way back to yourself, try writing down one small action today. Revisit it in two weeks. Notice what changes.

Curious to explore this rhythm with support? Learn more about Inner Door Journeys here:
https://innerdoorjourneys.com

📖🪞