I’ve always kept a journal. When we were teenagers, my best friend at the time, with whom I shared EVERYTHING, lost her mum and suddenly, I was left with no one to talk to since her whole world had just changed. No one to talk to about boys or life or anything, so I started keeping a journal and have kept one ever since.So I keep the journals and write my innermost thoughts down in an effort to work out my feelings in lieu of talking it out with another person. That method has served me well and continues to do so.
When I do go back and read them – and let me tell you, it’s top class entertainment – I always learn something about myself that I forgot.
As I grow from that girl into this woman, I track the changes. Some have been big: I am no longer a virgin and caught up with the angst involved with teenage hormones. Some changes are very minor: I’m still a faithful friend to many and I still love my family, but I know now that I don’t have to give them my everything for them to love me in return.
Fast forward to 2013, I started a blog.Initially, I thought that there would be quite a bit of overlap and I wondered if there was enough in my insides for both. Turns out, the things you can say in your diary cannot see the light of day on your blog! Ha!
The blog, for me, is a way to bring my thoughts out and share. I don’t share EVERY thought on my blog, but the things I do share are important to me. I think with sharing, you can say what’s inside and hopefully connect with someone out there in the big world.
My journal, is only for me, my fears, my worries, things I think about in my heart of hearts. If only you could see the stuff in there from when I was in my early 20’s. Whoa! So much drama and angst and emotion wrangling.
For example, here’s an excerpt from my journal about my second boyfriend. I was 17 and silly…well Diary Me was silly. The Real World Me was serious and guarded and kicked butt at O Levels!
He just told me that HE LOVES ME. That was lame. The way he said it, or rather spelt it, was lame. I was blown away and just grinning. I don’t love him. I don’t. I don’t see how he could say he loves me. He does not even know me. He said that he felt that way for a little while now. I don’t believe it. I can’t believe it. I heard “these three words”. (Stevie Wonder reference here, I think.) Why did I say it? I’m so DUMB. The boy just works his charm…kinda. I said it but I did not mean it. All the time I wondered if he was interested and now I know that he is and how! He is in love with me. I don’t get it. I don’t see how two people so quickly fall in love. I am not in love with him. I am just tied up. This one I have to tell (my best friend). I told him that I loved him. I guess I could learn to, right? That was definitely very sudden. I don’t want to talk to him. I am confused, but loved. Bye.
I laughed almost the whole way I was typing that little passage.
Would anyone want to read that kind of rambling every day?! (Let me know if you do cause I can always type up some Dear Diary stuff!) This run-on, stream of consciousness is definitely for the journal. There’s only angst with no resolution.
Don’t get me wrong, if you’ve met me in person, I do still THINK like this. Through blogging, though, I’ve learned to think things through completely and THEN put finger to keyboard.
The other thing I’ve noticed is that while the diary helps me think through my feelings, it’s not of any use to anyone else but me. With the blogging, I’m writing my complete thoughts from beginning to end and the process or outcome might hopefully help someone else. Putting it out into the universe might give someone else a feeling of solidarity and comfort.
In the end, I’ve concluded that I do have enough of my insides to share. Based on my diary entries alone, I do think deeply and worry about things and when I look at my blog and examine the things that I’ve discussed and sorted out, I sure hope it helps others as much as it has helped me!
ps. Pretty interesting article here about Diary vs Journal since I noticed I’ve used the two interchangeably. By the writer’s definition, my journal/diary is both.