Journal prompt: what do I actually want next?
There is a moment, usually somewhere in month two or three, when the question quietly changes. You stop asking why it ended and start noticing an empty space where a plan used to be. This prompt is for that moment, and it is harder than it sounds — most women discover they have not answered it for themselves in years.
Talk to a human
Write Kris today.
Stuck on the page? Write Kris instead — one honest paragraph is enough.
How to use these
Write for fifteen minutes without editing, ideally in the morning before the day makes its demands. The rule is that no answer may reference him, not even by contrast — 'someone who actually listens' is still an answer about him. If you get stuck, that is the point of the exercise rather than a sign you are doing it wrong; sit in the stuck for a minute longer before you write anything.
The prompts
01If nobody would ever know what I chose, what would I do with the next year?
Why it works: Removing the audience is what separates genuine wants from performances. Most women find at least one answer here that surprises them.
02What did I stop doing during that relationship, and did I stop because I outgrew it or because there was no room?
Why it works: Interests abandoned for lack of room usually come back quickly when the room reappears. Naming them is most of the work.
03What does an ordinary good Wednesday look like for me now?
Why it works: Everyone can describe a fantasy year; very few can describe a good ordinary day. The ordinary day is what a life is actually made of.
04What am I no longer willing to accept, in any relationship, ever again?
Why it works: Standards written down in the calm of a journal survive far better than standards discovered in the middle of a new relationship.
05Who would I be spending time with if I chose entirely freely?
Why it works: Social lives silt up around a partner's people. This question usually produces two or three names you have not seen in a year.
Prompt six onwards lives in the journal too.
One book, ninety days, a page for every night — the prompts on this page are the free sample of it.
Get the 90-day journal06What would I need to believe about myself for that year to be possible?
Why it works: This is the sentence that turns a list of wants into work you can actually start. Whatever it is, it is usually one belief, not ten.
Ninety nights, one book, no complications.
One book, ninety days, a page for every night — the prompts on this page are the free sample of it.
Get the 90-day journalQuestions women ask
What if I genuinely can't answer any of these?
Then write about why not for fifteen minutes instead. The inability is the material, and most women find that writing around the blank produces the answer within two or three sessions.
Is it too soon to think about what I want next?
Not if the question arrived on its own. It is too soon if you are using future-planning to avoid feeling the loss — you can usually tell the difference by whether the writing feels curious or frantic.
Should I share my answers with anyone?
Not initially. Wanting is fragile when it is new, and other people's reactions arrive before you have decided what you think. Share it once it has survived a fortnight.
How is this different from making goals?
Goals are about achievement; this is about preference. Plenty of women can list impressive goals and cannot say what they would like to do on a free Saturday. This prompt targets the second one.
Talk to a human
Write Kris today.
Tell her where you are right now — one honest paragraph is enough. She reads every message herself.
