I have a love-hate relationship with journaling.
Considering how long this relationship has existed -- since 2006! -- you would think we’ve ironed out our differences. I mean, I’ve journaled more than half of my life. Here we are, pulling uncurly gray hairs out when it’s time to vomit my feelings, thoughts, and inner workings on to a page.
Journaling has probably saved my life. Not being dramatic at all. When I haven’t verbalized what I’m feeling, I’ve written it out in these. I’ve taken days, sometimes weeks, to finish a single entry when I haven’t worked out what exactly I’m feeling. I’ve told her in the most honest of languages that I’m not ready to figure out, yet she’s patiently awaited for that change.
To add to the intimacy that is journaling, I’ve named mine. Those closest to me wouldn’t be surprised to learn her name is “Kitty.” To those who seek to discover my deepest secrets and actually set the record straight, my journals hold the answers.
Journaling has taught me to be vulnerable; it’s shown me to not be afraid of what I’m feeling; journaling has taught me to unpack who I am and learn to love myself.
This all sounds so dandy. But like a great story, there’s a villain.
Journaling has ruined my life. Not being dramatic at all. When I’m pouring out my soul to the pages, not once has my journal uttered advice and told me what to do! Thus, I’ve made hella mistakes, ruined relationships, and saw myself as ugly. For days, sometimes weeks, I’ve stared at the blank pages or reread the stories I’ve lived through and wished that I wasn’t the way that I am. Why do I have to feel everything? Why do I put more into things than I receive in return?
On days when the lack of intimacy is evident, some entries start off with “Bitch.” These pages hold a lot of the moments I never wish to return to.
Love-hate relationship, huh?
Overall, journaling has served as a method of therapy. It’s a challenge to unpack who you are when you’re still figuring it out. I can’t see myself ever giving it up.
Some have asked what I intend to do with them. I’ve always thought that giving to my grandchildren is the way to go. However, my mom just said while writing this, “your handwriting is so bad.” Love her.