Daily Jack Diary

January 7, 2026

I didn’t make an entry yesterday. I do these while walking the dog before work, and yesterday I simply didn’t want to. I don’t want this diary to become something I force when there’s nothing to say. Some days will be quiet, and that feels important to respect.

Yesterday wasn’t a great day. Nothing dramatic—just one of those familiar patterns reappearing.

There was an announcement at work about an organizational change. No details yet, no clear implications—but my mind immediately jumped to the worst-case scenarios. I recognized the pattern as it was happening: instead of taking the information as neutral and incomplete, I started projecting forward, imagining consequences that don’t exist yet. It’s an old habit. One I’ve been trying to unlearn.

It was a useful reminder that even though this whole process—the Diane Method, the storytelling—has helped me a lot, it isn’t a cure-all. There’s no switch you flip where your mind suddenly behaves perfectly forever. Old reflexes still show up.

On top of that, work has been quieter than I expected at the start of the year. I rely on work more than I probably admit—not just financially, but as structure. When it’s slow, my thoughts have more room to wander.

So yesterday felt… flat. Not terrible. Just uneasy. And worrying about it didn’t help.

Another thing I noticed: I haven’t been practicing the method itself very much lately.

The memoir work—the storytelling that started all of this—was what first shifted something in me. Then I got absorbed in building the website, writing about the method, shaping the language, answering questions. That work kept me engaged, but it wasn’t quite the same as actually doing the practice.

Now, when I look back at the memoir drafts, I feel overwhelmed. There are too many chapters, too many loose ends. I don’t know whether to revise them, continue them, or leave them alone. And that hesitation has kept me from returning to the process itself.

Yesterday made it clear that I probably need to get back to it—not as a big project, not as a commitment to “finish something,” but as a regular practice again. Whatever this is, it doesn’t seem like something you do once and move on from. It needs rhythm. Maybe once a week. Maybe less. I don’t know yet.

For now, I’m noticing where I am: a little unsteady, a little unsure, but aware of it. That feels like progress in itself.

We’ll see how today unfolds.