...JUST a Journal?!
A brief History on the Journals I Keep & Never Read
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- her book, Pearly Gates is coming out this Summer! ✨It’s late. I’m doomscrolling. Augie is sleeping. And in his own bed(!!). I’ve reached the end of my journal and am ready for a new one. This is both exhilarating and excruciating. You get it, right?
The thrill of picking out a new journal. I’ve had everything from the dollar store college-ruled notebooks, to the luxury leather-bound diaries. I wish I could say that I have saved them ALL, but that wouldn’t be true.
What is true: one particular journal from High School has made it through each and every move with me over the past 15 years. I have a little cardboard box with keepsakes, photos, notes passed between us friends, and that journal. It’s hardcover with The Great Wave off Kanagawa by Hokusai on the face, with a spiral keeping the lined pages intact.
Back in high school, a group of friends and I actually shared a journal; we called it “The Book”. The Book was passed around between the four of us- we took turns reading everyone’s latest passages and then added our own life updates before passing over to the next in line. My friend Maddie initiated this practice, and after graduation, The Book moved back to Arizona with her.
In High School, reading and writing in our shared Book was the most exciting part of my existence, besides the boxed DVD set containing all ten seasons of FRIENDS. Maddie introduced them to me- I have a lot to thank her for.
Whenever I add a completed journal to my archives shelf, I am always drawn to pull out my high school journal. It’s the first of the journals I decided to keep- for reasons unbeknownst to me because I have never read it!
You could say, “Oh, you can go back and recall moments from your younger years now!”
And I would say; No thanks.
Whenever I pull out the OG journal, I open it, check dates and times-(do you also journal with precise entry dates and time of day??) and then quickly close it back up. It’s as though reading excerpts of my life experience from 15+ years ago will break the seal. Like I will not only recall younger memories, but I will GO BACK AND BE TRAPPED IN THEM.
I don’t know about you, dear reader, but for me- I don’t want to go back. Yes, life is hard and constantly continues to prove to me that resilience is key to maintaining any fleck of joy while we are on this extremely educational and EMOTIONAL ride- so to speak. BUT ALSO, I’m coming to find that the longer I live, the faster I can reach a place of comfort in resilience. Is this you, too?
I’m not making any claims, DO YOU HEAR ME, ANCESTORS?! I am NOT done chipping away at creating a soft life that I don’t want to run away from. I have much to be thankful for, but we are STILL ON PAYROLL PEOPLE. The work is not yet *done*.
Sometimes I feel like Benjamin Button. Not in terms of physical looks Brad Pitt has nothing on my granny soul, but by way of childlike wonder. I feel like I skipped out on the wonder, back during the wonder years. Some of the research I’ve done on people-pleasing tells me that, kiddos who bear weight and responsibility, or hold big emotions like guilt or shame, don’t experience the wonder.
If this sounds like you, maybe it tracks that we don’t go back and read our old journals. We handwrite as an outlet to process the big feelings, feelings that hurt, or are hard to sit with. Feelings that we can’t put verbal words to. Sometimes, we can’t even trust to put our feelings on paper- out of fear someone will FIND AND VOILATE OUR PRIVACY (THE TERROR, see image titled “The Scream” above)- so we put the closest shreds or hints down that we can. We record how we got through the day, and that is enough. Why go back and re-open those wounds? (I realize that facing emotions that stink to sit in means facing our shadows. Traveling the dark night of the soul. Healing. For those of us who have done a lot of that- we don’t need to stay submerged.*)
*Reminder to self, from higher self.
Coming up for air and appreciating all the steps we’ve taken to get from there to here, is HUGE! I often need to remind myself that gratitude begets gratitude. I was once asked if adulthood turned out to be better, or worse than I thought it would be as a child. BETTER!! Better, across all fronts even though she can be a grueling bitch sometimes. Paying bills sucks, but becoming emotionally intelligent? Being able to discern how emotionally intelligent other people are and engaging based on assessment? YES. SOLD, to the woman behind the screen typing faster than words formulate; zA#u*7pNNNN19y+oXvv!!!!!!. I AM THANKFUL.
So, why keep the journals if I never go back and read them?
Well, I guess that’s the Type B, sloppy, sentimental gal that I am. I write as a way to process of course, but these completed booklets show me that I MADE IT. I survived the hardships! I GOT THROUGH whatever it was…and continued to show up for myself. Before I even knew what self-care was…before I knew I was a people-pleaser! BEFORE I KNEW, I WAS A WRITER. In the beginning, there was paper and pen.
It’s little blips. Proof of life, when life was good, bad, lonely, gruesome, hysterical, and historical accounts- that I was here.
As I ponder my journal collection, a familiar loving voice from beyond reminds me that I don’t need to read the ghosts of my past in order to justify keeping my journals. As I triumph over each trial by way of ink and blue-lined pages, I will Level Up. Life sweetens. Age and experience will grant me glimpses of that Wonder. To learn how to reach her- childlike moments of Awe- I’ll have spent time to Unlearn- that feeling will find me. And we will play. ✨
Thanks so much for reading 🖤
My last Journal was $7 from the clearance shelf of Barnes & Noble. It *perfectly* represented me. I am not kidding. If I were to leave my body and become a journal cover, this would be it. (included pic below) I have always loved the stars (who doesn’t?) and these gold foils are divine. Not too kiddish, not too abstract- just right. Stars under the night sky have always been able to induce the *awe* for me. I can’t seem to find this exact journal now- even online. I did happen to discover today that some people spend upwards of $600 dollars on journals?! 🤯 Send HALP.
I have yet to find a NEW journal that speaks to my soul.
Do you have a Go-To I should know about?
May we all fall into many, many, moments of Wonder & Awe,
K. Alexandra
I wish we could pass around the proverbial book too!! That would be so much fun and I’m sure so beautiful.
I completely OVERstand the fear of someone else reading our journals… 💀 I didn’t even THINK of Augie one day creepin on mine. New fear unlocked! 😂
I had to get real with myself recently. I realized that I feel emotions that I don’t dare speak aloud- ever, to anyone. Couple that with the fear of writing about these feelings because I didn’t want anyone to read about it in my journals- toxic!! No escape for the big stuff!
I’m better about letting myself feel now, and process through journaling, and if it’s something extra terrible that CAN NOT BE SEEN- I burn it! 😂 🔥
It helps.
Thank you so much for reading and sharing back and always writing such tender and vulnerable stories. I am constantly *awed* by your words. ✨
Omg I love The Book that you and your friends created!! I wish we could do that here somehow 😍😍
I used to keep all of my journals too and then I got scared that when I died one day my kids would read them and I didn’t want that. But I now regret it. Only because as I’m writing my memoir, I wish I had more to reference. I have some journals but none from teen years.
I found my last journal at Barnes and Nobles :) it’s a stunner! It’s got a big beautiful tree on the front and it’s soft greens and whites and golds. I’ll take a picture and send it to you 😍😍
Thanks so much for sharing your story friend, this is such a great topic!!