I initially opened up to this page, and almost peed my pants.
|Life was hard for this sister in the middle of three brothas|
The next one was from 1996. Oh, for shame.
Part of me was ridiculously overjoyed to have found this journal. Now, I could read and remember and relive all the silly, excruciatingly awkward moments I captured from the tender ages of 12-14 and therapeutically laugh out loud at how simple my life was then in comparison to now. How could I not want that?
Let's also discuss how much my penmanship improved in about 2 years. If only my handwriting was that easy to read now! Blame it on the rush, rush, rush of life with little ones.
The other part of me was so embarrassed and also a bit turned off by how, as I put it, "shallow," my self-dialogue was. I was pretty naive, and that's not always a good thing. I was very focused on petty things. I had the vocabulary and the brains to describe it, but I was seriously lacking in maturity. [See Erikson "Identity vs. Role Confusion" (Adolescence, ages 13-19)] Who wants that??
Reading various parts of this journal (and I couldn't bring myself to all of it--some of it was just too mortifying) reminded me that we're not all there yet, and we never will be--at least in this earthly life.
If I could snatch my journals from college (which are much pithier, as I spent far more time on the phone or with friends, or yes, even studying than I did journaling), I would probably come away with similar sentiments -- "Wow, gurrrrl, you really didn't know very much, did you??"
Sometimes experience is painful, awkward, or confusing. Sometimes, it's pure delight. Or a mix of the two. Or just somewhere in the middle. Whichever way it turns out, all I'm going to say is I'm thankful for the perspective that comes on the other side.
I want to get back into journaling.
Do you journal? If so, do you allow yourself to go back and read what you wrote, or is it a closed-book once it's written? How long have you journaled, and how does it help you?