Write for the version of you reading this in six months
In short
I write my notes for the version of me reading them in six months. Not the one writing them.
My first three months of notes were useless when I reread them. Things like 'felt rough this week' or 'good week'. Adjectives with no anchor.
By the time I went back to read them I had no idea what 'rough' meant in March versus September. Now I write two lines per week and the rule is: include something a stranger could verify. The day of the week.
The trip. The work thing. The cold.
Six-months-later me doesn't remember what 'felt rough' meant, but she does remember the week of the leak in the kitchen, and the entry that says 'leak week, slept on the sofa for three nights' makes the data legible again. Notes for future you. Not present you.
Present you doesn't need them — she lived through it.
This note comes from building titraA private GLP-1 tracker that lives on your phone.
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