Episode 28: Guided Journal Entry #7

“Close your eyes and travel back in time to a memory you’ve forgotten—a moment when you felt a simple joy. What can you thank your past self for in that moment?”

Yes, we’re time traveling—but instead of fixing the timeline or warning yourself about that one haircut, we’re hunting for a soft, overlooked moment of joy. Something random. Something pure. Maybe it’s riding your bike with no hands, or eating popsicles on a curb, or laughing so hard you snorted in public and didn’t even care. We're talking pre-tax joy.

Join us on the O'Neil Counseling app here: ⁠https://www.oneilcounseling.com/app-landing-page

Episode Transcript

(00:00):
Welcome back to Shrink Crabs, the podcast where we deep dive
into our psyches like emotional archaeologists, gently dusting
off forgotten moments and occasionally uncovering a
fossilized cringe. Today's guided journal prompt is
taking us on a little mental field trip.
The prompt? Close your eyes and travel back

(00:23):
in time to a memory you've forgotten.
A moment where you felt a simplejoy.
What can you thank your past self for in that moment?
Yes, we are time travelling. But instead of fixing the
timeline or warning yourself about that one haircut, we're

(00:45):
hunting for a soft, overlooked moment of joy.
Something random, something pure.
Maybe it's riding your bike withno hands, or eating popsicles on
a curb, or laughing so hard you snorted in public and didn't
even care. We are talking pre tax joy.

(01:08):
And then we thank that past version of ourselves, the one
who somehow made space for joy even before they had a five step
self-care plan and a podcast about emotional growth.
Hi, it's me. So grab your journal, close your
eyes and let's hop in the mentalDeLorean to rediscover a moment

(01:33):
of magic. No healing crystals or time
Turner is required. Just you, your memory, and a
little bit of gratitude for the person you were before you knew
what a four O 1K was. Let's get into it.

(01:56):
All right, now that we've cracked open the existential
fortune cookie and peeked inside, let's get into today's
guided journal journey. This one's not about fixing,
optimizing, or manifesting your best life.
Nope. Today we're doing something way
more underrated. Remembering Not the big, flashy

(02:21):
core memories that come with theme music and cinematic
lighting. We're going after the quiet
ones, the blurry Polaroids at the bottom of your brain's junk
drawer. A moment of dumb, unfiltered
joy, swinging too high on a playground, laughing until your

(02:42):
stomach hurt at something stupid.
The way sunlight hit the pavement just right one
afternoon and made you feel weirdly OK.
So here's your invitation. closeyour eyes, time travel a bit,
and find that forgotten flicker of happiness.

(03:04):
And then ask yourself, what did that version of you get right?
What tiny, beautiful thing did they do, intentionally or not,
that you can thank them for today?
So let's go memory diving. But don't stress, this isn't

(03:27):
about uncovering some life altering epiphany.
We're not hunting for your graduation day, or your first
kiss, or that one dramatic plot twist from your life's highlight
reel. We're looking for something
smaller, softer, maybe even kindof boring on paper but rich with

(03:47):
feeling. So close your eyes if you're
somewhere safe. Please not while driving
obviously, and just let your brain drift.
Start with a sense instead of a story.
What's the smell that brings something back?

(04:10):
Fresh cut grass, chlorine crans,your grandma's house, that
weirdly comforting scent of old library books.
What's a texture your body remembers?
The coolness of tile under your feet on a summer morning.

(04:33):
The feeling of a hoodie 2 sizes too big.
Your fingers trailing out the window on a car ride.
The itchy thrill of a Halloween costume.
What's a sound that unlocks something?
Ice clicking in a glass. Laughter down the hall.

(04:58):
The hum of cicadas in the evening.
The intro to a song you played on repeat in high school because
it felt like it understood you. Now ask yourself, where was I?
What season was it? Who, if anyone was with me?

(05:23):
What did that moment feel like in my body?
Try not to narrate it yet. Just let the snapshot load.
Let it sharpen at the edges. Maybe it was riding a bike with
no hands and thinking this is freedom.
Maybe it was petting a dog that liked you more than people

(05:46):
usually dead. Maybe it was lying on the floor
staring at the ceiling, thinkingabsolutely nothing.
For once, when you feel the hintof something, don't push it.
Just sit with it. Let it play like a short film in

(06:06):
your mind, and then ask, what did that version of me know
without realizing it? What were they teaching me by
just being? That's your moment.
That's your spark. That's what you journal about.

(06:30):
Not to dissect it, not to turn it into content or a
breakthrough. Just to honor it.
To say thank you, To remind yourself that joy doesn't always
scream. It often whispers.
And those whispers? They're worth listening to.

(06:51):
close your eyes. Let your mind loosen its grip on
the To Do List and drift. Not to the milestones that made
the photo albums. Not to the loud glitter turning
points, but to something quieter, something smaller, A

(07:15):
moment so gentle it barely made a ripple.
And yet somehow it's still floating there, waiting.
Maybe it's you at six years old,wild and sticky from the summer
afternoon, barefoot in the grasslike the ground was your

(07:37):
Kingdom, dirt smudged across your knees, popsicle juice
running down your arm, hair tangled from wind and play.
You weren't thinking about tomorrow, or how you looked, or
if joy was productive. You just were chasing fireflies

(08:00):
with the kind of holy convictiononly a child can muster, like
they were little sparks from theuniverse put there just for you
to catch. Or maybe it's you at 16, riding
shotgun and your best friend's car windows all the way down,

(08:22):
music cranked high enough to feel it in your chest.
There was nowhere to be and yet everywhere to go.
You didn't need a destination, just a stretch of Rd. the wind
in your hair and the wild ache of being young and almost free.

(08:48):
Your heart cracked wide open by the sheer possibility of it all,
like life had briefly pressed, paused so you could feel
infinite. But maybe it wasn't dramatic.
Maybe it wasn't fireworks or firsts or unforgettable

(09:09):
milestones. Maybe it was stillness.
Just you, in a chair you didn't notice most days, holding a mug
that warmed your hands in the exact way your soul needed,

(09:30):
morning light spilling across the floor, cutting soft golden
lines through the dust as if theuniverse was trying to make art
out of your quiet. And for just one breath, one
remarkable holy breath, nothing felt broken.

(09:58):
Nothing needed fixing. You were simply OK.
Or maybe it was a breeze that knew the exact shape of your
tension and slipped beneath it like a secret.
The scent of rain hitting caughtpavement, triggering something

(10:20):
wordless in your chest. That inexplicable comfort of
walking into a bookstore or library and being surrounded by
stories you hadn't lived yet, but somehow knew you needed.
The thrill of a spontaneous kitchen dance party.
Your socks sliding on the tile, your body remembering it

(10:42):
belonged to you. Maybe it was the first bite of
something delicious after a terrible day.
The moment someone handed you a cup of water like it was an act
of love. That one late night conversation
that cracked you open in the gentlest way.

(11:03):
A laugh that escaped your throatbefore your brain could analyze
the situation. A song you didn't expect to hit
so hard, but when it did, it felt like it had been written
for the deepest, loneliest part of you.
And suddenly that part didn't feel so alone.

(11:25):
These are the moments we're reaching for.
You didn't write it down. You didn't Instagram it.
Hell, you might not have realized it was special at the
time, but it was, and it is now.Bring that version of you,

(11:46):
however old they were, however messy or magical or awkward they
felt, into the room with you. Really see them.
Not the edited version, not the one you've retrofitted with
adult hindsight or judgement. See them in their purest form,

(12:10):
their chipped nail Polish, theirgrass stained knees, their two
loud laugh, their unguarded joy.Let them stand before you,
untouched by shame, unburdened by expectation.
Feel them. The way they moved through the

(12:31):
world with instinct over overthinking.
The way they smiled with their whole face.
The way they got excited about the tiniest thing, A bug on the
sidewalk, a silly inside joke, afavorite snack.
A moment of feeling seen. The way their joy was full

(12:54):
bodied and unapologetic. And now say it.
Thank you. Thank you for being open enough
to feel joy without dissecting it, for laughing like your heart

(13:15):
had never been broken, like you didn't know yet how to shrink
yourself to be more palatable orproductive or perfect.
Thank you for letting yourself belong to the moment without
needing to capture it, explain it, or turn it into a lesson.
You didn't know it would matter,but it did.

(13:38):
You didn't know I'd need it later, but I do, because here I
am, wearing skin that's older now, with a mind that spins
faster than it used to, and a soul that has picked up some
bruises along the way. And that moment you gave me,

(14:01):
that tiny flicker of something warm and weightless, It stayed
like a glowing ember I didn't know I had tucked into my chest
pocket. Quiet, patient, waiting for me
to notice it again. It's proof that joy was never

(14:25):
something I had to earn. I just had to remember how to
feel it. And that version of me, you did
it without a checklist or a fiveyear plan or a self help book.
You did it by being present, by letting your guard down, by

(14:48):
trusting that maybe, just maybe,you were safe enough to feel
good. That's what I'm trying to find
my way back to now. Because if you could do it with
your scraped elbows and chaotic energy and weird obsessions and
brilliant softness, then maybe Ican too.

(15:12):
Maybe I don't have to wait for everything to be perfect.
Maybe I can find a pocket of joytoday.
Not one that's flashy or profound, but one that feels
real. A moment where I let go of the
hustle and the heaviness and just exist.

(15:37):
Breathe. Feel the sun on my skin.
Let a song move through me. Laugh at something dumb.
Sip my coffee slowly. Let peace be enough.

(15:58):
So thank you for carrying that spark, for lighting the way
forward by simply being. I see you now, and I'm ready to
follow your lead. Maybe today doesn't need to be

(16:19):
monumental. Maybe it doesn't need a
breakthrough, a big win, a plot twist, or a Gold Star.
Maybe it doesn't have to teach alesson or check a box or move
you 5 steps closer to becoming the hyper optimized version of
yourself you think you should be.

(16:42):
Maybe today just needs to be real.
Maybe the real win is in choosing to be here, even if
here is messy or ordinary or kind of boring.
Maybe there's magic in sipping your drink while it's still hot,

(17:02):
in feeling the texture of sunlight on your skin, in
looking up from your phone and noticing how the trees are doing
just fine without a single productivity hack.
Maybe presence is the quietest kind of rebellion we have in a
world that's constantly yelling at us to go faster, be more, do

(17:24):
better, keep up. And maybe that tiny act of
defiance, of slowing down, of being where your feet are, isn't
wasted. Maybe it's sacred because
somewhere out there, years from now, your future self exists and

(17:47):
they are aching with gratitude for this.
This moment you made room for, this breath you allowed yourself
to take without tightening your jaw.
This instant where you looked around and and thought, hey,
this is enough. Not because everything was fixed

(18:11):
or fabulous, but because you paused anyway.
You noticed anyway. You allowed joy, however small,
to sneak in that future version of you.
They remember this. They carry this moment in their

(18:32):
bones, and they're whispering back in time.
Thank you for this breath. Thank you for not skipping this
chapter just because it wasn't dramatic or dazzling.
Thank you for letting it count. So if today feels simple,

(18:55):
uneventful, quiet, let it. Let it be a page in your story
that doesn't need to shout to matter.
You're not falling behind, you're not wasting time.
You're living it. And that's more than enough.

(19:17):
So to my past self, thank you. To my present self, don't miss
this. And to my future self, I'm
trying, I really AM. And let this be your reminder.
Joy doesn't require permission. It doesn't need a reason or a

(19:42):
milestone or a witness. It only needs your attention and
you. We've always known how to give
it, and that's where we'll leaveit for today.
Not with a resolution or a checklist or some urgent call to

(20:03):
radically transform your life. Just with this moment, this
breath, this memory, this quiet acknowledgement that even your
smallest joys matter. That they have always mattered,

(20:25):
even when you forgot to notice. Because here's the truth.
Life is not one endless highlight reel.
It's a collection of seemingly insignificant moments that
quietly shape who we are. And sometimes the most powerful

(20:48):
thing we can do is stop long enough to honour them, to look
back with gratitude, to look around with curiosity, and
maybe, just maybe, to look forward with a little more
gentleness. So if this brought up a memory

(21:11):
for you, a flicker, a feeling, along lost version of yourself,
once laughed without bracing, and once paused without guilt,
hold on to it. Write about it, sit with it, let
it soften you. And if nothing came to mind yet,

(21:36):
that's OK too. Maybe your memory is still
stretching, still warming up. Be patient with it.
Joy has a funny way of showing up once it realizes it's being
looked for. Thank you for being here.
Thank you for showing up for yourself in this way.

(21:58):
Thank you for honoring the past you, the present you, and the
future you all in one sitting. If this episode spoke to
something in you, share it. Send it to someone who needs a
reminder to slow down rate. Review and subscribe wherever

(22:19):
you're listening, Spotify, ApplePodcasts, Amazon Music,
iHeartRadio, or through the O'Neill Counseling app.
And if you want to connect with other listeners, join us in the
app. We'd love to hear what memories
you uncovered and what you are past self had to say.
There's a whole group for it in the app, just for talking about
guided journal entries. Next week we're going to be

(22:40):
talking about managing friendships, and hopefully it
won't just be an episode of hot takes and emotional workouts.
Until next time, be gentle with your mind, time to your heart,
and maybe, just maybe, give yourself a moment today that
your future self will thank you for.

(23:01):
You deserve it.