The Artist’s Way by Katherine Emery

It was 1995, there were parts of my job as a Health Educator that I loved, but the work environment was toxic, and I wasn’t fond of my boss. One day, while browsing at Barnes & Noble, a book practically jumped out at me: The Artist’s Way. I bought it on the spot and started journaling every day using the stream-of-consciousness method it teaches. That simple practice changed my life.

Journaling through The Artist’s Way helped me reconnect with my inner voice, the part of me that had been buried under stress, self-doubt, and a job that no longer aligned with who I was becoming. As I wrote each morning, I started to gain clarity about what I truly wanted. I realized I didn’t have to stay stuck. Bit by bit, I began to release the fear of change and started visualizing the kind of work environment, creativity, and purpose I wanted in my life. That daily practice became a form of manifestation. In time, I found myself stepping into a new career that felt aligned, joyful, and like a true reflection of me. It wasn’t just a creative awakening, it was the beginning of a completely new chapter.

One evening after my weekly adult ballet class, the teacher invited me to join her for a glass of wine at Legal Spirits Restaurant. As we sipped and chatted, Connie, the owner of Classworks Dance Studio, asked if I would be interested in teaching Ballet to very young dancers. Surprised and flattered by the offer, I responded with a resounding, “Yes, I’d love to teach!” That conversation, and that glass of wine – marked the beginning of a new path for me.

As my contract as a Health Educator was coming to an end and with the position as a ballet teacher, I decided not to renew my contract, embracing this new opportunity. During my time as a Health Educator, I had written grants focused on preschool-aged children and discovered how much I enjoyed working with that age group. In addition to teaching ballet, I applied for and was hired as a lead teacher at a local preschool.

Teaching small children is one of the most rewarding experiences I’ve ever had. Their curiosity, energy, and joy are contagious, turning even the simplest moments into opportunities for wonder and discovery. Watching their eyes light up when they learn something new or accomplish a task for the first time is incredibly fulfilling. The bonds formed through daily routines, laughter, and shared silliness create a great sense of purpose. Guiding them as they grow, not just academically, but socially and emotionally—reminds me every day of the impact a caring, patient presence can have on a small child.

Journaling continues to bring clarity to my life in a way few other practices do. Putting my thoughts on paper helps me slow down and make sense of the negativity that pops up in my mind. Whether I’m working through a challenge, capturing a meaningful moment, or simply noting what I’m grateful for, writing creates space for reflection and insight. Over time, my journal has become a trusted companion, offering perspective, grounding me in the present, and gently guiding me forward. It’s a daily reminder that even in chaos, there is always clarity to be found through the act of writing.

My journal keeps track of it all; illnesses, births, deaths, vacations, and everything in between. It’s basically the unofficial family archive, part medical record, part travel log, part soap opera. One page might detail a case of the flu that took us all down like dominoes, and the next, a sunny day at the beach complete with sand in every crevice. Birthdays, baby announcements, photos, restaurant receipts, and Broadway Playbills are squeezed in as bookmarks. It’s not the pressed flowers or tiny beautiful watercolor paintings of Edwardian Ladies type of journal, but it’s honest, and flipping through it is like reading a wildly unpredictable, slightly dramatic, but very heartfelt family saga.

Writing has always been a catharsis for me, a way to release emotions I can’t quite say out loud. When the world feels heavy or my thoughts are tangled, putting pen to paper creates space to breathe. The act of writing helps me sort through the murky bits, name the feelings, and leave a little part of the weight behind with each word. It doesn’t always bring answers, but it always brings relief. Whether it’s a quick vent, a heartfelt letter never sent, or a quiet journal entry, writing helps me heal, process, and move forward with a little more clarity and peace.

In the midst of these difficult times, I find comfort in journaling and I gently recommend the same to anyone searching for calm