Life moves fast and memory gets weird. Here’s why I might start documenting my life—no pressure, no glitter pens, just a little curiosity and mild existential dread.
Why Now Feels Like THe Right Time (or Late Enough)
So here’s the thing: I don’t remember what I did last Tuesday. Or yesterday. And I’m not even sure what day today is, if we’re being honest. I haven’t exactly been documenting my life—and no, the occasional blurry cat photo doesn’t count.
That said, I’ve recently felt the urge to begin. Not because I’ve had a spiritual awakening or read a life-changing productivity book, but simply because… well, I’m not getting any younger. Also, my brain? Let’s just say she’s been quietly deleting files without asking first. So maybe it’s time to give memory a little help. Preferably before she ghosts me completely.
What “Documenting Life” Could Look Like (Spoiler: Not a Bullet Journal)
In my head, “document your life” used to mean aesthetic planners, colour-coded highlighters, and journaling spreads that look like they took six unpaid interns to create. Guess what? I own none of that—and my handwriting scares people.
These days, I think documenting life can be charmingly chaotic. For example, a photo of toast you burned (again), a note that says “rained sideways,” or a voice memo of you singing to your laundry. These little things won’t impress your inner minimalist, but they do make the everyday feel like something worth noticing.
Doing It Badly Might Be the Point
Let’s be honest: I won’t be doing this like a Pinterest goddess. I’ll forget to write things down. My “life moments” folder will be buried under 57 screenshots of memes I planned to send and didn’t. And yes, my photos will still have terrible lighting.
Even so, I think there’s something liberating in doing it badly but doing it anyway. Like dancing in the kitchen with socks on or trying yoga and mostly just lying there. The effort counts. The imperfection? Kind of the best part.
The Tiny Stuff Hits Harder Now
Over time, I’ve started noticing that the smallest things hit me the hardest. A warm coffee mug in cold hands. Someone laughing so hard they wheeze. Finding a CHF 2 coin in a jacket you forgot existed. Those are the moments that feel like little victories.
Rather than chasing perfect memories, I’m learning to collect weird, joyful, real ones. They’re the ones that stay. Or at least they would—if I started writing them down instead of trusting my unreliable mental filing system.
Possible Ways to Start (Without Overthinking It to Death)
Here’s what I might try – nothing fancy, just honest stuff:
- One photo a day, even if it’s just my socks
- One sentence before bed, especially if it’s “today was a mess”
- A voice memo where I pretend I’m sending updates to my future self
- A secret folder on my phone labeled “chaos & joy”
The idea isn’t to be impressive. It’s to be present. And maybe—on a good day—slightly amused.
The Real Reason I Want to Start (Besides Memory Loss)
Honestly? I’m tired of forgetting the small stuff I actually wanted to remember. Documenting life might be my sneaky way of slowing things down without needing a mindfulness app or paying someone to tell me to breathe.
Besides, one day I want to look back and see a timeline of weird, wonderful, wonderfully ordinary moments. Not just work deadlines and grocery lists. Also, I’m fairly certain future me will appreciate the effort. She’s going to be nostalgic and dramatic—might as well give her some material.
A Note to My Inner Perfectionist (Please Sit Down)
To the voice in my head that wants clean lines, consistent themes, and a vibe-worthy aesthetic: please take a seat. This isn’t for you. This is for the version of me that forgets to take phone calls but remembers the way a dog looked at me in the park.
This is also for the version of me that laughs at her own bad jokes and likes writing on napkins. Real doesn’t need structure. It needs attention—and a little courage to be messy on purpose.
Final Thoughts – Let the Memory Hoarding Begin
I haven’t started yet. However, I plan to. Not because I finally figured everything out, but precisely because I haven’t. Starting now, even imperfectly, feels better than regretting not starting at all.
So yes—maybe I’ll document my life. With typos, weird lighting, and a slightly sarcastic tone. That sounds just right.
Your Turn – What Do You Remember?
Are you already documenting your life? If yes, how? And if not—what’s stopping you? Tell me your weirdest method, your laziest habit, or your most accidentally poetic photo caption.
Let’s swap memory-hoarding strategies before we forget why we’re doing this in the first place.