Journals

I've often struggled with writing in a journal.  I usually write when emotions are high.

In my engagement time to Jack I often wrote from a feeling of gratitude for him and the life I was looking forward to as his companion.  I was naive about all those dreams, but I think we all are in the beginning.

As time went on I wrote in my children's journals.  I documented each new accomplishment.  I marveled at how big they were getting.  I told them how much I loved them. I wanted each  of them to know of the things in their life that they wouldn't remember.

This morning I thought about my journals, and Jack's.  I read his old journals in a moment of discouragement about a year and a half ago. Not something I'm proud of. I also wouldn't advise it.  I thought I would find hidden treasures of good memories from the past and an understanding of what could be behind the silence of the present.  I found neither. 


For me, I am a journal writer only when troubled.  I use it as a friend.  I talk of my struggles.  I do not write like I did in my kids journals all the accomplishments of the day.  My journals are a record of heartache.  


A few times I record the joys, but mostly those are journaled in books that went to my children when they got married.  I also documented all the struggle I was having as their mom. I often spoke of my failings in those books instead of writing my accomplishments in my own book. 


 I stopped journaling my life in my book.


I am now asked to journal whats going on in my life. My feelings about this horrible thing called divorce.
I have struggled to be honest at times, always hiding a part of myself. I am afraid of what I might find that will tell me this is all my fault.  


Or worse yet that it is a good thing after all.  




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