Wow! 14 posts in July. That’s, um, 14 more times that I wrote in my journal that month. I can’t help but laugh when I think back on my avid journaling days. As a teenager, my journal was my confidant and I loved it. I had a big box full of notebooks of various types and sizes, recording my thoughts, feelings, and experiences of growing up. Mostly about boys, I’ll admit it. By the time I got to college, I had to find another box to fit the filled-up journals into.
And then somehow around the time I got married, I lost that first box. I can still see it. Green plastic lid, short enough to slide under a bed, long and wide enough to contain at least 20 little books, all different from each other. It was full to the brim with… well, with me. And it’s gone. I’ve had 5 years of being in denial about it, and I still won’t believe it. It’s too painful to think I’ve really lost it. We’ve moved 3 times, my parents moved too since I’ve been married, and none of us have seen it. I’m still hoping it’s stashed somewhere in my parents attic.
Anyway, journaling hasn’t been quite the same since the losing of my childhood. Oh, I still have a journal or two floating around, and I use them when I feel so inspired, but I haven’t quite given it my all. We have our “family” journal someone from John’s single’s ward’s bishopric gave us as a wedding present, and my “Dear Kid” journals. There’s one for each kid (well, I need to get one for Evan still, actually), and I write to them when I feel like it. The idea is that I’ll give it to them when they leave home. Won’t that be fun for them? I really enjoy those little books. Our family journal usually gets updated with family milestones & mile markers during the activity part of Family Home Evening. (Which means I still there with my nose in the book and the pen in my hand while John rough-houses with the munchkins.) I have fun with that, too.
But thus far I find my blog a satisfying replacement for the need to record life as I see it.
Oh! But the part I laugh about! Forgive me, I was royally sidetracked.
I laugh when I think about how HANDS OFF I was about my journals back in the day. My worst nightmare was someone else reading them, especially a sneaky little brother. So much so that the following conversation took place:
10 y.o. Little Brother (LB): “What’s that you’re writing in?”
Me: “Nothing.” (book slams shut)
LB: “Come on, tell me. Is it your diary?”
“Your, um… I don’t know! What is it?!”
“It’s none of your business!!”
I then proceeded to drill him on what it was until I got the right answer. (What’s this Aaron? — None of my business!)
Now my journal-replacement (which you are reading, bless you) is open for all the world. In fact, I’d love for my “little” brothers to read it! Haha!
Still makes me laugh.