I put my journal into chatgpt

I put my journal into chatgpt. While logged out of course. I’ve been keeping a daily journal for the past few months, nothing very extensive, incredibly low stakes. Sometimes the entry is a few words for the day, but I have tried to document what I’ve done and, when I can remember, what mood I’m in.   

Entries have included:

fixed my internet. takeout from coconut thai. finished reading “atmosphere”. mood = good

Or the even more titillating:

Long work day. Watched the matrix with Ada and Christian.

I kept regular journals as a kid and throughout college. Journals that I returned to this year in the midst of family turmoil that spoke almost prophetically to me. I revisited entries that made me cringe (deep grip Catholicism still had on me) and ones that made me laugh (“Today in science class we were talking about if it were possible for a set of twins to have two different fathers and I volunteered to make it my science fair project.”... okay, maybe not that tight of a grip.) Movie quotes and memories that have escaped me. Sentences weighed down with sadness, that made my shoulders slump while reading seeing my teenage self under a ratty plaid comforter while I wrote. Yet the next paragraph, in a total teenage brain switch, I was talking about crushes.

This return to every little moment of my day and my brain was fun. I’ve written before about the role trauma has played as a thief of my memory, but journals give me the glimpse back to time periods I can’t otherwise place myself in. So many times in adulthood I’ve tried to reintroduce this practice with far too high of expectations.

Morning pages! 3 pages, pen can’t lift off paper, stream of consciousness, ready, set, go! Even when I’ve lowered the stakes as so often encouraged by pretty much any writing instructor or creative, I still found myself overthinking it. I still found myself trying to write prose. Or notebooks I leave by my bedside – remember to write before you fall asleep! Or first thing in the morning! A dream journal, maybe? Gratitude lists stuck for a while but have gone through their own moon cycle, too. 

But for at least the last three months, I’ve found a simple “journal” in a Google Doc that I can access from phone or computer. Each entry is just a Date smart chip and I give myself no suggested word limit or topic or time of day I write it, and I’m allowed to go back and fill in. This format has been working for me, so much so that I was curious, what are my days?

I highlighted the whole doc, only 5 pages, and plopped it into chatgpt. My relationship with AI isn’t complicated: I use it but not much. It terrifies me. It’s being abused, used in the wrong places, and not the silver bullet that will solve all our problems. It is a bubble that will burst and my guesses are we’re all going to end up with the bits and guts of it on our faces. I use it mostly at work for taking notes in meetings, or in my personal life, say to break down in simple terms the rules of Wyrmspan. But this felt like a use I could get behind with some anonymity. I knew if I went back to look through these entries that I would bring my own biases and maybe what I wanted to see, which serves a purpose, too, especially in journaling. But for this, I wanted something a bit more objective, and believe me, I’m not for a second claiming AI is anything close to objectivity.

And yet, I was pleased with the results of what ChatGippy had to say:

The journal balances ordinary domestic life and seasonal rituals with deep emotional honesty. It shows someone who is tired and carrying a lot, but who consistently returns to connection, creativity, food, and small joys as ways of coping, healing, and staying grounded.

Man, did that make me tear up. I am tired. I do carry a lot (because we all do) but I am trying to regularly return to connection, creativity, FOOD and small joys as a way to cope and heal. And damn if that isn’t ever effective because I'm still here. I know there would be no other way to carry this weight and find hope if it weren't for the connections and small joys and FOOD and creative energies around me. I hope this comes through in my actions, not just my writing because I am so grateful.

I say start a journal, or don’t. But if you do, low stakes. Dates are nice. Maybe track your mood? Write about something you love (like food) and if you’re curious, plop ‘er in for analysis (anonymously!). And in 20 years, look back and remember the cringeworthy and the lovable among the thousands of small moments that make up our lives.

Signed,

Team Ordinary Domestic Life, Seasonal Rituals and Deep Emotional Honesty