There have been weeks that i have had a hard time writin...not sure why. I do know that it is not because of the lack of ideas. There are plenty of ideas in my head and even a few on paper. Since I have not writen, I have done some reading. I read the things that I have writen, and pretty happy with it.
I have also been reading the many newsletters that arrive in my email. Some of them have been helpful and some not so much, but no matter what I have always taken something from them.
I received two particular newsletters, one I found to be very helpful and another one that was short and they got to the point very quickly. I was not sure how I felt about that newsletter. It was about would we want someone to read our jounals when we pass. Sometimes journals have some pretty personal things written in them.
I read the newsletter and just moved on to the next email. I really did not find it useful, at first, but I began to think about it. I was not a big jounaling fan. I never really got it, never really understood the reasoning for journal, so I never started one.
A coulple of years ago I was going though a hard time. Nothing was going right, everytime I turned around something bad happened. I never had enough money. As the old saying goes, if it weren't for bad luck, I would have no luck at all. That was me the summer of 2009. Nothing good happened. I was talking to a good friend and co-worker about the bad time that I was having and she suggested starting a jounal. She had and still has a journal, she told me how it helped her. She told me all I really needed was a cheep sprial note book and a pen. Didn't need anythng fancy. Good, because I did not have the money for a fancy journal.
I took my last $5 and bought a notebook, but he drive home I began to regret purchase. I could have used the money for gas or for a cheap dinner for my kids. I got home and began to face the issues that were waiting for me as I walked in the door. I forgot about the jounal for just a little bit, but finally did pick it up.
I found a quiet place, my bedroom, crawled on the bed with my notebook and pen. I just sat there. Doing nothing but looking at the blank pages, yet again regreting buying the notebook. I had no idea where to start. What do I write about? Well I figured it out when I wrote the words, "This is so stupid, I have no idea what to write about or what to say." About an hour and a half and more than 12 pages later I realized that I did have something to say. Well, not really had something to say more like had a lot of emotions to get out. Why did I not go to friends and famliy? I really did not want my friends to know what I was going through and my sisters kept telling me to quit being a victim. I didn't want someone to fix my issues, I just wanted someone to listen. My journal did that, it listened and never judged me or accused me of being a victim.
My journal and I had a date every night after the kids went to bed. It started out with me just complaining, but after several entries I started adding some good things. The good things happened to other people, but I was beginning to add upbeat things. I then started to make short notes about how that day was just a little better than the day before.
I then started adding goals to my entries, small ones, but goals all the same. Made updates on those goals and noticed that my journal entries were getting more and more upbeat and positive and less complianing. I was beginning to feel better.
Then came the day that everything changed. It was September 9, 2009 and I had a bad day. It seemed like everything that my journal and I worked towards had not just taken a step back, but it just went right off a cliff and it was carried out into the ocean. I kept my date with my jounal and began to complain. While I was writing i had realized that I needed to be happy again. Even though things were getting better and I was learning to cope with things, I still was not happy. I soon learned what I needed to do to make myself happy agian.
I began thinking about the things that I used to do that made me happy, my crafts (scrapbooking and stamping), I had not been in my craft room in years. In fact my craft room had tuned into a storage room. Then it hit me, there was something, writing.
I useed to write short stories in high shcool and college. I loved doing it and even got good reveiws. Never won any prizes but that was ok, because it was something that I enjoyed and it was something that made me feel good. As I sat and thought about it, I began to remember about a dream that I once had and never followed it. Here was my chance. I wanted to write a book.
September 9, 2009 was the day that it all began, that was when Alison, Frannie and Beth came to be. It took me a few days to write my first chapter. The ideas for the following chapters were born with in weeks after writing that first chapter.
My journal and I have been though a lot, it has never let me down, it was there when I needed to yell, it was there when I needed to cry and it was there when I had some good news to share. Will my journal be worth anything to anyone when I pass. I don't know, but who ever reads it will learn things about me and maybe learn a few secrerts. The reader of my jounal will see the struggles that I suffered and how I brought my self back from those struggles.
I have not had a date with my journal in a while, so I just might pull it out, blow off the dust and do some writing. It will be there for me, I know that it has forgiven me, I don't need to ask.
So why not buy a cheap notebook, or just find one that you may have around your house and start a journal, you never know what will happen whe you begin to write.
Happy Writing
Barbara
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