The Reset Journal
Built from my heart 💛
Real talk — I've spent way too much on planners, to-do lists, journals & notebooks just to use a page or two before they joined the graveyard in my drawer. So I stopped buying them and started building my own — from only the themes, priorities & pages I actually use. This is that journal. I didn't make it from a template; I made it because I needed it — on the nights I couldn't tell you my own name between Mom, Mommy, Mama, Bruh. There's no wrong way to use it. Skip pages. Repeat the ones that help. One honest line counts as a full entry.
You don't have to do it daily. You don't have to do it pretty. You just have to be honest with the woman in the mirror. I'll be right here beside you.
How are you, really?
Not the kids. YOU. No 1-to-10 scales — how do you measure that anyway? Just tap where you're at. Every one of these is a complete, honest answer.
If today had a one-word weather report, it's:
"A one-line 'today sucks' is a complete check-in. You don't owe anyone a paragraph."
One honest line. That's the whole thing.
You don't need a whole journal habit. You need one true line a day. (This one came straight off my bathroom mirror.)
The name I want to remember answering to:
One thing I did for ME today (even tiny):
One thing I'd tell the woman in the mirror right now:
Music is medicine. 🎵
Real talk — sometimes my whole reset is Jelly Roll on full blast, windows down, in the car. Not a marker on the mirror — a song I feel deep. Put one on before you fill a single line, and let it do half the work.
And sometimes the song isn't even yours — it's the one someone who loves you sends. Let it land. 🎵
My reset song right now:
The brain dump — empty the tabs.
Here's how I actually do it — my brain works like a binder, so I categorize my life into folders, folders, folders. Not one big scary list — I dump every open tab onto a sticky note, then drop it in the right folder. Suddenly the noise in my head gets quieter. Empty your head into the boxes below — messy, no order, no judgment — then circle the ONE that truly has to happen today. The rest can wait, mama.
👶 Kids
🍽️ Food
💛 Partner / my person
🤝 Community & people
🪞 For ME
💵 Money & bills
🌟 Life goals & bucket list (yes — dream a little)
⭐ If your day goes backwards — what STILL has to get done:
The simple ones.
Some days you don't need a practice — you need a decision made or a box to check. No shame in basic. Basic works.
⚖️ Pro / con — for the thing you keep going back and forth on:
👍 Pros
👎 Cons
Where I'm landing:
✅ Or just the list — check it off:
"My brain works like a binder — I categorize my life into folders, folders, folders. Some days that's a deep reset… and some days it's just a checkbox. Both count."
Look back, then let it go.
What actually worked this week (bank the win):
What didn't — and that's just information, not failure:
One small win nobody else would notice but me:
One thing I'm setting down and NOT carrying into next week:
"Pick your battles. Bank the wins. A rhythm bends — a schedule breaks. Be gentle with the one writing this."
I am.
Under the schedules, the boards, the snack drawer, the mental load nobody sees — there's a whole person. Let's go find her. Fill in the blank, as many times as you want:
I am…
Before I was anyone's anything, I loved:
If I had one hour that was only mine, I'd:
The bigger reset.
Once a month, or at the turn of a season — sit with these. No rush.
What am I proud of that I almost didn't notice?
What's been heavy lately — and who could help carry it?
What memory did we make that I want to keep?
What does "managed" look like for me right now — not perfect, just steadier?
A letter to the woman in the mirror.
Write it on a good day. Read it on a hard one. She'll need to hear it from someone who actually gets it — and nobody gets it like you.
"You showed up. That's the whole job today. Love hard, love deep — starting with a little of it for yourself."
Write the letter.
This is the one I reach for most. Sometimes it's to someone who needs a repair — a kid, a partner, someone I love. Sometimes it's to myself. Sometimes it's just to everything I'm carrying. I write it raw and unfiltered, no one reading it but me — it's my therapy when I can't get to therapy.
Who (or what) this letter is to:
What I need to say — no filter, nobody's grading it:
When it's all out, choose what it needs — there's no wrong one:
However it leaves your hands, the relief is the point. That's the "let it go." 💛
"For a repair: apologize, own up, remind them you love them — then let it sit. For everything else still stuck in you? Get it out. I've sent them, I've burned them, I've written them on a plate and smashed it. Every single time — relief."
🔒 This one's yours
You paid for this, and it was real work to build. Please keep it to yourself — don't share or forward it. But if a mom you love needs it? Send her my way. That means the world.💌 Refer a friend — you both win
Love it? Tell a friend. When she grabs a Reset ($47) or a 1:1 session, you both get $13 off.Refer a friend →
📸 Share a win · ⭐ leave a review
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💬 What would you like to see next?
Was this worth it? Leave you wanting more? Tell me what to build next — I read every single one.Tell me →