I am no longer a journaler.  Journaler? That’s a weird word. I engaged my pens decades ago, especially when the subject matter revolved around boys, but then I tapered.  Since then I’ve started and stopped more than start-stop technology in city traffic, but I just can’t get into it. So now I use them as notebooks, and I’m totally fine with that. No more guilt. For years I couldn’t figure out why I didn’t want to journal anymore until I realized the list involved reasons I didn’t want to admit. Mix together slight perfectionism and the constant inner critic of an Enneagram one, with a full schedule and a woman…