I’ll tell you a secret….

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This really was my very first journal. I find it really funny that at 8-years-old, I would write “Volume I” on the front of it, as if I knew I would always be writing down my life. I was right, of course (I always am!)… I have filled about 5 of them up. (We’re not counting notebooks of poetry or stories, or spirals forever doodled in, that’s another blog!) Then I have the journals I have specially written to each of my children. I stole that idea from my mom actually. Her divorce from my dad happened when I was really little, about 4, and I spent a lot of years being really upset about it. When I found that journal, it helped me make peace with the fact that although they were no longer together, they had loved me from the get-go. It really helped me get over the sheer anger, and start realizing I had been given different blessings through it. I just needed to know that once the two of them sat together, completely amazed that I could say “dada”… Of course I also have a prayer journal, a dream journal, and this blog is some kind of digital journal I guess.

My very first secrets are in those pages. Along with my first fears, first crushes, first affirmations, and my first real pain. Sometimes I have thought about burning it, or letting it go somehow, but I never could, because my story is in there, and so it has become this little part of me I can’t replace. Sometimes it’s good to go back and check in with the 8-year-old version of myself and see how she’s hanging on in this world!

Maybe oneday my kids will open them up and read all about the little girl who was bored with elementary school because it never challenged her. She was a bookworm, boy crazy, plagued by nightmares, and completely in love with writing. Maybe they will read about a teenage girl who often felt so very lost and ugly, and out of place, and at the same time knew she was really smart. Now she knows she wasn’t really the ugly duckling, but it took her a long time to see it. Maybe they will read about the first time she fell in love, and maybe they will laugh because their mother really did know what happens in back seats on dirt roads and she really did drink beer. Maybe they will read about the struggles she went through, and understand why they were over protected, carefully guarded, and rarely left to their own defenses. Maybe they will smile when they read about the fact that their parents met in a Wal-mart parking lot and moved in together four days later because their dad was the biggest goofball she had ever laid eyes on (bet you didn’t know goofy is the new sexy). Maybe they will see through the eyes of a young mother who was scared to let anyone inside her safe haven, as she endlessly tried to create a perfect family for them. Maybe they will take comfort in that she finally realized perfection was unattainable. Maybe they will take a ride on the roller coaster that has been her life, or maybe, maybe they will leave the books in the box and never dust open a page. Maybe they will leave behind the words that make up the pieces of the puzzle that is me, and that is their choice, but the box will be there, holding the words, just in case they ever wanna know…

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6 responses »

  1. I thought long and hard before opening up my life for public view (though my blog and my memoir stories). I just felt that someone, somewhere might be helped by knowing what I went through and how I went through it.

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