Journals of My Life

 

             Just in case you're wondering, no, there was no snow ball fight. The kids woke up extra early to help their dad clear the drive way yet again. All three were out there (both kids and their dad). I was inside making breakfast. Lyme disease has done a number on my joints so the Hubster insists that shoveling snow is not something I should do too often. 

Today was not a good day.

I was off.... you know?

I have those days where I feel like I'm being squeezed so hard by life. It's all I can do to take a deep breath.  Its such a weird time. Still caring for my little family and having the responsibility of having to care for an elderly parent. There are ways I use to combat that choking feeling and one of them has always been writing.

I look back at the little girl I was and sometimes I feel so sorry for her. There she was all alone in her room never being able to share her thoughts and fears with anyone. I was bullied, so I never really fully trusted people that I thought were friends.. The few times I had...I inevitably would hear my private thoughts being retold back to me by someone else in a mocking way. My innermost wishes, fears and crushes of the week were poured instead into journals. It became a form of self care. If I didn't write my thoughts down, I'd feel almost non existent. It was as if the words on paper made everything I was feeling and going through real. I was real!

                             source

I have kept a journal since I was 13 years old. I have books filled with life as I saw and felt it. I just finished another book and lately I have wondered what will happen to all these books later on? I certainly do not want anyone I know to read them. Those pages were meant for that other part of me. The spiritual Joanne that would carry my innermost secrets away into the universe where God would turn them into glittery space dust.  

                                                                                   

Maybe when It is my turn to leave this world I will put in in writing that I want my books burned and the ashes buried in the ground so that my thoughts will become part of  nature. My words would find their way to twisting roots...and who knows, maybe if people look very closely at the leaves and flower petals they will see etched there the words of my dreams and laments..... and wouldn't that be a wonderous mystery.

Did you keep a diary/journal? Do you still?