Morning Pages: My Favorite Mind-Clarity Ritual (Especially When Life Feels Loud)

Let’s start with the truth:
My brain is loud in the morning.

I wake up and it’s already chattering:

“Did I answer that email?”
“Why did I say that awkward thing yesterday?”
“What if I forget that thing I’m already forgetting—wait, what was it?”

Before I even open my eyes, it’s like someone hit “play” on a mental podcast I never subscribed to.

For years, I thought something was wrong with me for waking up that way. I envied the women who claimed their mornings were serene, filled with silence, tea, and swan-like stretches.

I was waking up already behind. Already buzzing. Already anxious.

Then I met a little practice that changed everything.

Morning Pages.
Three pages. Longhand. First thing in the morning.
No rules. No grammar checks. Just… dumping your brain onto the page like it’s last night’s leftovers.

It sounds simple. And it is. But it’s also magic.

So if you’re someone whose thoughts feel scrambled, whose clarity feels out of reach, or whose nervous system wakes up in overdrive—you’re in the right place. Let me show you how morning pages saved my mental space, and how they might just save yours too.

What Are Morning Pages, Really?

The idea comes from Julia Cameron’s book The Artist’s Way, which is technically about unlocking creativity—but honestly, it should be required reading for sensitive humans who overthink.

Here’s how she describes morning pages:

“Three pages of longhand writing, strictly stream-of-consciousness. No wrong way to do them.”

That’s it.
No topic.
No structure.
No editing.

You write whatever comes up.

Some days mine sound like a to-do list:

“Need to email Sarah. Don’t forget oat milk. Oh god, I still haven’t booked that dentist appointment.”

Some days it’s pure emotion:

“I’m overwhelmed. I feel behind. Why do I always self-sabotage when things start going well?”

And occasionally, it’s pure nonsense:

“Why do I keep dreaming about raccoons?? Are raccoons my spirit animal?? I need coffee.”

But always—and I mean always—I feel better afterward.
Lighter. Clearer. Quieter inside.

Why It Works (Even If You’re Not a “Writer”)

Morning pages aren’t about writing something good. They’re about getting the noise out of your head so it stops running the show.

Here’s what it does for me:

• Declutters my mind. I stop spinning when I can see it all laid out.
• Reveals patterns. Oh, I’m still obsessing about that one conversation? Cool, let’s look at that.
• Makes room for new thoughts. Once I write out the mental junk, ideas and clarity actually show up.
• Softens my anxiety. Putting fear into words makes it less scary. Less tangled.

And the best part?
You don’t have to be a “writer.” You just have to show up honestly.

If you can write “I don’t know what to write” 15 times in a row, congratulations—you’re doing it right.

What My Actual Morning Pages Routine Looks Like

Let’s keep it real.
There are days when my morning routine is messy. Or skipped entirely. But when I do show up for it (even imperfectly), this is usually how it flows:

1. I wake up, pee, and pour coffee.

(Yes, I know “real artists” do lemon water or whatever. I need caffeine to reach the page.)

2. I sit in bed or on the couch with a soft light.

Sometimes still in my robe. Hair in last night’s bun. Blanket wrapped like a burrito. Very glamorous.

3. I open my notebook.

Not a fancy one. Just a $3 college-ruled spiral. The messier the better—it gives me permission to not make it pretty.

4. I write three full pages.

Even when it’s boring. Even when my hand cramps. Even when it’s just me writing about how I don’t feel like writing.

Sometimes I cry. Sometimes I laugh. Sometimes I close it feeling like I just exhaled for the first time in days.

And sometimes—if I’m being super honest—I scribble “ugh” 17 times and throw it on the floor.

All of it counts.

What I Write About (Spoiler: Everything)

The beauty of morning pages is that you don’t choose the topic—your mind does.

Some of my common themes:

• Fears I didn’t know I had
• Work ideas or creative sparks
• Replays of awkward social moments
• Hidden desires I hadn’t admitted out loud
• Honest prayers
• Inner pep talks like, “You’ve got this. You’ve survived worse.”

I’ve written full pages just asking the universe for a sign. Or venting about how I still compare myself to other women on Instagram. Or naming my inner critic so I can stop letting her drive.

It’s like journaling, but messier. Wilder. Less filtered. More true.

How It’s Helped My Anxiety (More Than Any Planner Ever Did)

I used to try to organize my overwhelm with planners. I thought, “If I can just structure my chaos, I’ll feel better.”

Spoiler alert: I had the prettiest plans and the loudest mind.

What I needed wasn’t more structure. It was emotional clarity.

Morning pages gave me that.

They let me process before I perform.
They give my inner world a place to breathe before I dive into tasks and texts and expectations.

And the best part?
There’s no performance. No pressure.
Just me and the page. Raw and real.

Sometimes I find solutions in the writing. Sometimes I just find space.

Both are sacred.

Tips If You’re Starting (And Feel Weird About It)

1. Don’t overthink it.

Truly. Just write. Misspell words. Use bad grammar. Be messy. That’s the whole point.

2. Don’t read it back (at least not right away).

You’re not writing a memoir. You’re decluttering your brain. Let it be what it is.

3. Don’t force deep thoughts.

You might write about laundry. Cool. That counts. This is about accessing your mind, not impressing it.

4. Keep your notebook private.

Let yourself be honest by knowing no one else will see it. (I literally hide mine under a blanket sometimes.)

5. Give it 7 days.

One day won’t show you the magic. But a week? You’ll start to feel it. The unwinding. The softening. The space.

When I Skip It, I Feel It

There are weeks when I fall off the habit. When I think I’m too busy. When I sleep in. When I just don’t feel like it.

And by Day 3, I feel it.

The noise creeps back in.
The anxiety spikes.
I feel heavier and more reactive.

It’s not that morning pages fix me. But they remind me that I can hold space for myself before the world starts asking for pieces of me.

They are not a chore.
They are a kindness.

My Final Love Note to You (and Your Brain)

If your mind is full…
If your heart feels foggy…
If you don’t know what you feel until it spills out sideways…
Please give morning pages a try.

Not as a task. But as a ritual.
A quiet daily return to yourself.
An honest, judgment-free conversation between you and your inner world.

No one else gets to see it.
No one else has to approve it.
You don’t need a productivity plan or a 5-step morning formula.

You just need a pen, a notebook, and your beautiful, cluttered, trying-her-best brain.

Morning pages won’t change your life overnight. But they’ll help you hear your own voice more clearly.

And honestly? That voice—you—deserve to be heard.

Always rooting for you,
Selene