Old Journals

I used to write in journals, for years and years I wrote in them. Not every day, but often enough you could read through them and follow my life…which is sort of the point, right?

Yesterday I was sorting through the drawers in my night side table and there they were, my journals, all of them. Its not like I didn’t know they were there, I just haven’t looked at them in a long time, as in, over a year.

My journals

My journals

I used them to write out things I was going through, things I couldn’t talk to other people about, just…things. I wrote poetry in them. I wrote when I was depressed, when I was sad, when I was lost…I am lost a lot. I also wrote of happy things, exciting things, adventures I was having, dreams I longed to fulfill. While I didn’t write every singe thing, mostly because that would be super boring, I wrote a lot. I never tried to make myself look good in them, never wrote them thinking one day when I’m dead maybe a relative will read them and learn who I really was, not who I pretended to be, I wrote them for me. So I could sort things out in my head. For me anyways, that really helps.

So I picked up an old journal and opened it to the first page and immersed myself in my own history. That journal is over ten years old, I was reading about problems I was having with a guy, how my cat was sick and I was scared she was going to die soon, then I read how she died and even though that day is burned in to my memory the reading of it made me cry because it brought it right to the forefront of my brain. I flipped through to the middle, read about how I was lost, was worried I was going nowhere because I hadn’t accomplished anything important yet, how I hated my early morning University classes, all kinds of stuff.

When I picked up my most recent journal and read the last entry I was a little sad it was written over a year ago. A lot has happened this past year and I haven’t written it down anywhere. The only places those memories are being saved are in my memory and if there is one thing I learned from working with seniors it is that relying on our memories is the worst idea ever!

Sure I have written some stuff on this blog, but because I am keeping my identity anonymous I can’t go in to detail about things without risking my cover getting blown…lol I sound so dramatic! šŸ˜› I have my other blog, the one that is linked to my facebook, twitter and other social media sites but because I have that one linked to sites that connect me to my friends there are limits to what I can write about. I can write about the fun stuff I’ve done, or my working out (as long as I don’t let them know how intense I go) or how I am trying to lose weight (as long as I only talk about weight loss stuff that is healthy), or about various life things but I have to keep it upbeat, funny, interesting without being worrying or depressing…or real. Basically, I can’t blow my cover on either blog…which limits me to what I can write. I am more free on this blog that’s for sure, and I think I will continue to be able to be free simply because this blog isn’t linked to anything else of mine and I don’t put pictures of me on here and I don’t put names…but those omissions make it less truthful, and I hate that. My journals have names, details about people so that years from now I have lots of reminders about who they were, what I knew about them, information that brings them alive. I’ve got pictures printed and pasted on the pages, stubs from movies and plays, cards and letters given to me. Going through my journals is more then just reading my words, there is a tactile joy that comes from turning pages, reading cards, seeing pictures…things I can’t manage on a blog, and maybe it is old school of me but I like that.

I have decided I will start writing in my journal again, I am going to start with trying to bring them up to date, write out the various things that have happened to me over the past year and a bit, basically start up with where I left off. It’s going to take a while, and I’ll have to be fairly consistent with the writing if I want to catch up anytime soon but maybe I can manage it.

That doesn’t mean I won’t be writing here, I wish I was more consistent with my posts on this blog, or on my other blog, I find that once I get on either blog I love the writing but some evenings it seems like too much effort and I can’t bring myself to do it. Weird huh?

Every evening I don’t write I feel like I have failed, which just adds to the failure I feel everyday because of not succeeding in losing weight quickly, sigh. Everything gets blurred together in my head and I end up feeling like a big fat failure about, well, all aspects of my life. ugh. Maybe adding one more outlet for my feelings will help me sort things out, help me to stop failing, help me to finally succeed at something, anything!

Here’s hoping!


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