More than once in my life I've been told that when I'm having a problem, I should write about it. Journaling has always been cathartic to me, but I realized recently after talking to other people about their journaling habits, that I only write for myself (read: in a tiny hand-written journal that no one reads) when I'm upset or going through something that's causing me anxiety or stress.
I rarely, if ever, write for myself when I'm happy.
As a result, I have journal upon journal full of angst, sadness and in some cases, anger. These journals contain the bones of bad relationships, uncomfortable situations, awkward encounters and ugly moments. They harbor all the yuck. All the icky in my life.
I'm naturally a worrier. Even when things are going well for me, I worry. I look ahead with that strange mom-complex that women tend to have and I see the worst. I'm working on it. Trust me. And journaling helps.
McKenzie and I were talking yesterday about what should be done to or with old journals. She rereads hers. She likes to go back through and re-experience with new perspective. Her mom, she said, burns old journals to release their contents back into the world. I love the cycle of it, and the karmic nature of that approach. But I do neither. I cannot bring myself to re-experience what I've written, and I cannot bring myself to part with it at the same time. Having that grave for the bones, for me, something I know is there, but don't have to revisit if I can't, serves as a reminder of the memories the books hold. I don't have to dig them up to know what they are.
I haven't really been journaling for myself lately, and that's generally a good sign. But I think I'm going to start. McKenzie used the metaphor of doctors: People only go to the doctor's when they're sick, she said, but sometimes a check up when you're healthy, to prevent the sickness, is really good.
I think she's right.
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1 comment:
Totally true. I find that I tend to only write about the bad things unless I am specifically writing about what happened that day in summary. I think it's because any recollection is sad because you're reliving past experiences.
Happiness has no room for the moment's of 'hey that was pretty sweet' because to say that first requires you to admit that happiness has passed and is replaced by something else.
I highly recommend re-reading your old writings though. It may be painful at times, but often I find that hidden in between all the angst and turmoil there are always a few lines of sheer genius. When I am feeling down I know what to do to fix it I'm just not ready to actually do it just yet, but my journal tells me that I knew what to do. Besides, you'll never know what mistake you'll avoid a second time with a refresher.
And I love your doctor analogy. If you figure out how to write about the happy times let me know because I'm still clueless. <3
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