Journals: Notes to my future self.

I’ve been journaling since I was eleven. It started sporadically. I would pour out my heart to “dear diary” and then days later I would be appalled at my entry and tear out the pages. Usually, I would write about things that were happening in my family, the divorce and upheaval, but sometimes I thought I needed to appear more normal and wrote about boys that I thought were cute and drama with a friend. I was a shy and reserved 11-year-old and journaling was a great outlet for me.

In high school, I developed a writing routine that produced more entries than ever. I was a devout Christian at the time and would read from a devotional and then write about my day. It makes for interesting reading some twenty-plus years later. I am amazed by my perseverance. I am also amazed by how busy I was. School, work, sports, youth group, and friends. I wasn’t at home very often.

The journal was a way to celebrate milestones and accomplishments and a way to process all that happened in my days. Those journals also functioned as scrapbooks and are stuffed with memorabilia. Today I open them with caution as the contents may explode.

Around 2001, the year my son was born, I decided to quit the fancy journals that would never lay flat on the desk and converted to the Mead Composition Book. I do not know how I discovered them for use as a journal, but once I moved over, I’ve never gone back. 

Now, journaling is how I begin my day. I usually write while I am drinking a cup of coffee in a quiet house. At 6 a.m. I am the only one awake, and this quiet time is one of the highlights of my day.

Writing is a way to process events, worries, and anxieties, but it is also a way to remind my future self that life is cyclical and that what might seem insurmountable today will be insignificant tomorrow. Journals provide a way to self-talk through complicated situations that life will consistently send our way.

Occasionally I will read my old journals. My favorites are from when my kids were little and I was a stay-at-home mom. Funny that I love them so much because I was always tired then. Also, we were living on one income so money was always tight. However, looking back I realized that we were living deliberately. It was hard, but the rewards were incredible. We savored our warm and cozy house, meals together, and the crackling of the wood stove on a rainy day. We were also living in the country for the first time as a young family and we delighted in long walks; discovering blackberries, and learning the names of the trees and birds and flowers. I don’t think I would have known how precious those days were if I didn’t write about them. They would have been lost to me.

So, today I am able to read those old entries and glean important lessons. These journals, these notes to my future self, have a lot to teach.