The Time I Accidentally Wrote My Future: Intuitive Writing & Forward Reflection
I didn’t plan any of this.
At the end of 2024, I was just trying to survive a toxic work environment, the kind that slowly squeezes the air out of your chest until you forget what it feels like to breathe normally. One night, without thinking, I picked up a pen. The page felt cold under my hand, the ink scratching across the paper like it had somewhere urgent to go.
And I just… wrote.
Not journaling.
Not reflecting.
Not manifesting.
Just raw, intuitive writing…whatever the hell surfaced.
None of it made sense.
I wrote about people I barely knew.
I wrote about things I might become.
I wrote about experiences that had no logical place in my life.
But something in me kept going.
12 journals later, the year ended.
Everyone else was posting their “books I read this year” lists.
Meanwhile, I had unintentionally written the equivalent of a small library.
I didn’t know it then, but I was writing the blueprint for my year ahead.
When the Nonsense Became a Map
Fast-forward to the end of 2025.
I’m flipping through those journals, the chaotic ones, the ones filled with scribbles and half-thoughts and intuitive fragments, and suddenly I’m sitting there with my mouth open.
Everything I wrote happened.
The people I wrote about?
They’re in my life now.
The things I said I’d become?
I became them.
The experiences I wrote without understanding?
They unfolded almost exactly as they were written.
I had this moment recently, a holy-shit moment where I realized I hadn’t been journaling at all. I had been receiving. My nervous system, my intuition, my future self… something had been speaking through me.
Maybe I’m an intuitive writer.
Maybe this is a gift.
Maybe it’s something I’m meant to help others access.
January 1, 2026: The Bath Realization
So here we are.
January 1, 2026.
I’m in the bath, warm water, soft light, the kind of quiet that lets truth rise from the bottom of the body.
All day, my inner voice kept whispering:
“Write 2026 reflection.”
I didn’t question it.
I assumed I’d be writing my 2025 reflection… Afterall that’s what we’re supposed to do, right? Recap. Summarize. Look back.
But when I sat down to write a 2025 reflection, my whole body said no.
It felt wrong.
Forced.
Misaligned.
Saying “2026 reflection” felt natural.
Effortless.
True.
And then it hit me:
Within my writings from the end of 2024 and into 2025, I wasn’t reflecting on the past.
I was early reflecting the future.
I was intuitively writing the year ahead without knowing it.
Some people call that manifestation.
I call it listening.
Reflection Doesn’t Have to Look Back
We’re taught that reflection is backward-facing.
That it’s about recapping what already happened.
But what if reflection can also be forward-facing?
What if the soul reflects the future before the mind catches up?
What if intuitive writing is a form of remembering, remembering something you haven’t lived yet?
When my inner voice said, “write 2026 reflection,” it wasn’t a mistake.
It was guidance.
A nudge.
A familiar pull.
“It’s time to tune in and map out your year ahead. You’ve done it before.”
So, I did.
And just like last year, I wrote whatever surfaced, not my wishes, not my curated intentions, not my goals, but the raw, unfiltered truth rising from somewhere deeper.
Because when the nervous system finally feels safe enough to speak, it doesn’t always speak in past tense.
Maybe This Is My Gift… And Maybe It’s Yours Too
I’m starting to believe intuitive writing is a portal, a gateway, a guiding compass.
A way of hearing the future self before she arrives.
And I want to help people access that.
Not to predict their lives, but to listen to themselves more honestly.
Because sometimes the most powerful reflection is the one that hasn’t happened yet.
And so here I am again, on January 1st, in the bath, warm water, soft light, the same quiet that held me last year, letting the next version of me speak before I fully understand her. I’m not writing to predict anything. I’m not trying to control the year ahead. I’m simply listening.
Because now I know:
when I write from my soul, I’m not documenting my life.
I’m meeting it early.
This is how I tune in.
This is how I map forward.
This is how I remember what I haven’t lived yet.
And maybe this is the point, not to reflect on the past, but to reflect the future back to myself before it arrives.
If something in this story stirred something in you … a curiosity, a nudge, a whisper — I want you to try this:
Pick up a pen.
Sit somewhere quiet.
And write whatever the hell comes up.
Don’t analyze it.
Don’t organize it.
Don’t try to make it make sense.
Just let your future self speak.
And if you want support in learning how to access this kind of intuitive writing, the kind that reveals, remembers, and gently maps the year ahead, I’m going to create something for that. Stay close. Your next chapter might already be trying to reach you.
About Mallory
Mallory is an intuitive guide and nervous-system-informed practitioner who helps people reconnect with their inner wisdom through reflection, presence, and embodied practices. Her work centers on creating space for clarity, safety, and honest listening so what’s meant to surface can do so gently, without force or pressure.
If this story stirred something in you - curiosity, recognition, or a quiet nudge - you don’t have to navigate that alone. Mallory offers free consultations for those who feel called to explore intuitive writing, reflection, or what may be unfolding in their next season. To schedule a free consultation, reach out here.