Keeping a Diary

Did you ever keep a diary (or journal I guess might be a more modern term)?  Where did you hide your diary? Was it in a shoe or boot in your closet, under your pillow, in the bottom of a drawer, or someplace so secret you knew no one would ever look?  Did your diary have a lock on it or just an elastic strap that bound it together?  Was it pretty? Did it have flowers or one of the popular pop culture icons of the day on its cover?  How old were you when you started your diary?  Do you still keep one?

I was 7 years old when I started my first diary. It had  pretty little flowers on the front of it and a delicate little lock.  I wrote things I did with my girlfriends, toys I wanted, and what I did in school that day.  That first diary lasted me almost 4 years. I wrote little quips here and there. Not every day, and never very much, so it lasted a long time.  I kept that diary under my pillow.

When I was 11 I asked for a new diary and got one for my birthday. It had a picture of Shawn Cassidy of the Hardy Boys on the front and again a delicate little lock to help me keep my secrets.  This was a whole different diary.  I wrote about my frustrations with being a pre-teen, exerted my independence, talked about boys I thought were cute, girls I didn't like, and fights I heard my parents having. This diary was full of an 11 year olds' growing pains and big wishes.  I hid it in a box in my closet that had some old toys I never played with in it. It was full in 6 months and on to the next.

From that point on for the next 30 years, I was never without and active diary, though as an adult they were referred to as journals. The hiding places always moved in case someone caught on. They were paper bound, leather bound, laminate and plastic . There were flowers and teen idols and textures and warm rich colors.  I have a box in my attic that has journals going all the way back to my very first at the age of 7.  The writing is that of a child, a teen, a woman. There is printing, script, doodles, bubble text, hearts and flowers, tear stains, perfume scents, and varying colors.  I don't share them with people because they remain my private thoughts even after all these years.  But I when I moved a year ago, I did look through them and it was wonderful to see the simplicity and innocence of a child as she lived and grew each year into a young woman, a wife and a mother.  To see the heartbreak and poignancy of challenges she faced along the way and the strength and courage with which she faced them even while feeling broken.   And then I paused reading long enough to remember, this wasn't some random person, it was me.  And I felt great pride and power knowing that I have such inner strength and wisdom.  Seeing it from a readers perspective, I realized that I can face anything life throws my way, and come out of it better for the experience. I've lived it, I've proven it.

I haven't kept a diary for a couple of years now and I miss it. I think because I finally found my place and contentment in life I ran out of angst to write about and after a while, writing about rainbows and unicorns seemed to lose its power.  I wish I had not given it up because just as you think everything is peachy something comes along to rock your world, like losing a job , or battling for the well being of a child.  I wasn't tracking then, and so those experiences aren't recorded and they should be. And I've decided, just as I'm writing this post,  in this moment I have a strong desire to begin a  new diary.

In a way this blog is like those diaries from years past, it allows me to share my thoughts with all of you. The biggest difference is I won't be sharing my secrets or struggles.  Its not your job to usher me through or hold me up through my pain  and struggles.  This blog is about sharing experiences, random observations, and silly thoughts. I'll save my inner most joys and philosophical struggles for my eyes only. Some things are good to share and others should remain private.