Since junior high, I have always kept a journal. I would write about my daily musings, and what made me happy or sad. When I was overseas, my friend kept 20 journals dating from the early 1990s. Today I went through them and decided it’s time to toss them away forever.
I know some people say they would make great reading for my grandchildren or whoever when I am gone. Unfortunately I would die before I let anyone read about my past.
In my teens and especially in university, I used my journals as my confessional. Every last detail of my love life and sex life were outlined. Gawd, I was so bad, so very very bad.
An ex-boyfriend of mine once read my journal and I could have killed him. Particularly because I just had written about how I cheated on him the week before. Needless to say that relationship didn’t last.
Psychologists always say that writing in journals help sort out problems or issues. Writing about your feelings supposedly helps clear your mind so you see things clearer. Perhaps these journals give evidence of my own personal growth. I am no longer the young insecure woman that I once was.
I keep a journal today and mostly it’s about my travels or what I did that day. In comparison, very boring to the “tell all” confessions I used to write everyday but now I ignore all the stupid things I used to dwell on. Life is much bigger than that.