Stop The 3 AM Brain Spiral: My Simple Journaling Practice
It’s 10:47 PM. Lights off. One leg already asleep. And that’s when my brain decides it’s finally ready to work.
Did I confirm the car service for the early flight? Did that expense report actually route to the right approver, or is it stuck somewhere in Chrome River? Did I reply to that email, or did I just think about replying to it?
If you’ve been an EA for longer than a week, you know this feeling. Your brain doesn’t clock out when the laptop closes. It keeps running the calendar, the contingency plans, the “wait, did I” list, right when you’re trying to fall asleep. At some point I stopped fighting it and started writing it down instead. That’s my brain dump practice. Eleven-plus years in, it might be the one habit that keeps me sane.
What it looks like
My main window is right before bed. Nothing fancy, just me, a notebook, and whatever the day left behind. I write it longhand, no editing, no ranking by priority. I just get it out of my head and onto the page. Half a thought here, tomorrow’s to-do list there, a random memory from a meeting three weeks ago. None of it needs to make sense. It just needs to be out of my head so my head will let me sleep.
The second window is lunch, when I actually get one. EA lunch breaks are a bit of a myth some days. But if I get twenty quiet minutes, I use them the same way, not to plan, just to dump. The tone’s a little different midday. Less “3 AM spiral,” more “let me get ahead of the afternoon before it gets ahead of me.”
Pen and paper, first choice
I could type it into my phone. I could talk it into an app in ninety seconds. On the days I’m genuinely out of time, I do exactly that. But given a choice, I reach for pen and paper every time, specifically my Mr. Pen notebook and pen. Writing by hand slows me down to a pace I can actually think in. Typing lets me jump around, which feels efficient but usually just means I never land anywhere. Handwriting makes me finish one thought before I start the next.
I also just like having a stack of notebooks instead of a folder of files. I can flip back a week and see the exact thing I was stressed about, and laugh, because it worked itself out. Most things do.
When longhand isn’t an option
Some nights my hands are done and my eyes are barely open, and the notebook stays closed. That’s when audio typing earns its keep. I talk it out instead of writing it out, then download the transcript so it doesn’t just disappear. It’s not my preferred way, but it’s a real backup. The point was never the format. It’s getting it out. Some nights that’s three handwritten pages. Some nights it’s ninety seconds of me muttering into my phone. Both count.
Why it’s not just a “nice habit”
I used to think journaling was for people with more free time than I have. Turns out it’s the opposite. The busier my job gets, the more I need somewhere to put the overflow. I’m holding two people’s calendars, priorities, and unspoken expectations in my head at once. If I don’t empty that out, it doesn’t disappear, it just leaks into my sleep, my patience, and my focus the next day.
The brain dump isn’t really about productivity, even though it usually sorts my thoughts out anyway. It’s about letting my brain stop guarding everything at once. Once it’s on paper, I don’t have to remember it. The notebook remembers it for me.
If you want to try it
You don’t need a system. You don’t need color-coded tabs or a fancy app. You need five minutes, something to write with, and permission to write badly. Start before bed, or whatever fifteen minutes your calendar hasn’t stolen yet. Don’t organize it. Don’t judge it. Just get it out.
Your notebook doesn’t need to be pretty. It just needs to be honest.
— Lala