I can’t go back to yesterday – because I was a different person then. Lewis Carroll
I have often wondered what will happen to my old journals after my passing. Anyone who reads them will think of me as an angry, hateful, confused, impatient person stymied by relationships, be they romantic, friendly or work-related. They will also see, though, someone well-traveled, creative, loving and articulate. I’m more concerned with the first group of attributes for this post.
Journaling is a way to get poison out of your body without hurting anyone. More often than not, being confused and angry about something rights itself, and solutions appear, after a 10 minute writing spree.
That’s why I write. It’s cathartic.
I once read that old journals are who you WERE, not who you ARE. We dump the negative and whatever else we don’t want to inflict on anyone into the pages of a book. Just a few years ago, I wrote a lengthy journal entry to my kids to explain what all that spewing was about, in the event they decide to read them. Then I thought they would probably be so disgusted before they got that far that they’d never find it.
I have almost chucked those boxes of journals many times. I rarely reread them. They have already served their purpose – they let me dump my crap thereby smoothing out the rumpled parts of my life. They are full of garbage.
Or are they?
I will be 57 next month, and I am still evolving. Most important, I am learning why those journals are full of poison. I write with every revelation, which creates more revelations and more writing. I think by the time I am old and ready to pass, my writing will be complete. I surely will not have answered all the questions, but I will almost have come full circle. The beginning will make sense at the end.
The books full of poison will have meaning.
That idea keeps me writing. Maybe someone will read my later writings and want to dig into the early stuff. Maybe they will find my thought process interesting, my life’s growth inspiring, and my childhood story heartbreaking and warming at the same time. Maybe someone will put it together to inspire others.
More than likely, though, no one will read it, analyze it, and put two and two together to see what this one soul’s life was about.
And that’s ok.
I write for me, no one else. It does me a lot of good to discover and learn about myself and gain strength to carry on every day. I feel especially good that my early journals are the beginning chapters of a complete story yet to be written.
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Nan,
This post truly inspired me! I found myself nodding my head in agreement on several points you made.
“More often than not, being confused and angry about something rights itself, and solutions appear, after a 10 minute writing spree.”
Yes! I find the same result when writing a journal entry. Solutions DO appear.
“I once read that old journals are who you WERE, not who you ARE.”
I love this insight! Yes, it is our past self, not our current self in our already written journals.
“I feel especially good that my early journals are early chapters of a complete story yet to be written.”
This is a fitting conclusion to such a wonderful, insightful, and personal post about your perspective on your journals.
Our stories are not complete yet. That’s why we keep writing.
Nan, I loved this post so much, I decided to pick it for the #JournalChat Pick of the Day for all things journaling on Twitter!
I will post it on Twitter, Facebook, LinkedIn, and my blog Refresh with Dawn Herring.
You’re welcome to follow me on my @JournalChat account where I post all things journaling.
Be refreshed,
Dawn Herring
JournalWriter Freelance
@JournalChat on Twitter
Thank you, Dawn! What an honor! :)
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