I have stacks and stacks of old journals. Some have pretty covers that urge me to reach out and pick them up. Others are plain little books that seem drab and unworthy of holding the written treasures of my life. Sometimes I use a simple spiral notebook to record my thoughts and feelings. Ultimately, the vehicle in which I take my written journey isn’t all that important.
When the need to write calls, it doesn't matter where I write, just that the page is blank and willing to hold my thoughts and ideas.
My journals have been my safe space to "talk" about my life and the feelings I have as I navigate the ups and downs of daily living. Filling empty pages with my feelings, hopes, and dreams has always been my personal home-based therapy.
When I write, I have the opportunity to purge my mind of negativity and find clarity in my thinking patterns. As I practice the art of daily journaling, I begin to recognize my own toxic thoughts.
With recognition comes the ability to change.
For the past couple of days, I have been reading my old journals. Whenever I am feeling down or in a depressive funk, I pull out an old journal and become reacquainted with a younger version of myself. Often, reading about my past lifts my current mood and allows me to consider how far I have come in my own life.
The two journals I picked out of the stack this past week were from 2011 and 2012. At that time my husband and I were living in a rural setting trying to run a Permaculture homestead with chickens, goats, llamas and a multitude of gardens. We would sell produce, eggs, and raw goat milk shares to members of a local food co-op.
Back then, I was having some success selling my watercolors at the Farmer's Market every week. I was thrilled to be painting and selling my work. My youngest children were so little then at two and three years old. My older girls were sixteen and nineteen and in well into the throes of their own teenage angst.
There were ups and downs during that time period. My husband hurt his back working on an Earthbag llama barn and was barely able to move, let alone work on the homestead. I had to take up the slack and take care of the animals and gardens. I also had to run the household and take care of the children. It was not an easy time. Because my husband was unable to work as much, our financial situation quickly began to falter. I was a stay at home mom without an income at that time. It was rough, but I got through it. We got through it.
Now, as I clean my house of unwanted clutter, I ponder my stash of old journals that hide in boxes under my bed. What do I do with them? Is it time to let them go and release my past for good? It seems like the symbology of tossing out my old journals might require some sort of personal ceremony. I am not sure what that looks like right now. Maybe I am not ready to let them go just yet.
Reading and rereading my old journals shows how resilient I have been when times have been tough. My journals also contain so many memories of children's birthdays, goat birthings, abundant garden harvests, and our connections to the local community. They are full of poetry and an occasional sketch. Stuck in between the pages are ticket stubs, photographs, dried wildflowers, and my children's art--tangible evidence of happy times. The journals are my life in words, contained in little bound books, which I can go back to again and again when I need to.
Writing works as a creative meditation that brings me back to myself.
When I journal, the mind chatter stops and I focus on what I am feeling right now, in the present moment. The emotions come out onto the paper and I have a chance to think about what it all means on a deeper level.
The patterns of unhappy thinking in my journals have not surprised me, but my ability to bounce back from my depressive episodes quickly has. What did I do?
Through my journaling, I was able to release the negative thoughts that swirled in my mind and set them free with positive affirmations.
My spiritual gurus--Eckhart Tolle, Wayne Dyer, Louise Hay, Byron Katie--always show up in my old journals. Their teachings have brought me out of my negative funk time and time again, and for that, I will be forever grateful.
Positive affirmations go a long way. I have pages and pages of one sentence affirmations. Maybe writing the words over and over again helped me to believe them.
"I love and approve of myself."
"I trust my intuition."
"Right now, at this moment, I am okay."
Journaling has kept me present in my own life. Through writing, I am able to keep my emotions in check and counterbalance the negative with positive.
I don't know when I stopped my daily journaling practice. It might have been when I went back to college to get my graduate degree and time became such a valuable commodity. I was so focused on the external things that were happening in my life that I forgot about my inner well-being. I fell back into the depression that has been ever-present at the edges of my mind. I got stuck in the "pain body" as Eckhart Tolle refers to that state of mind that feeds itself on negativity.
I have been so trapped in my own mind cage of sadness and despair that I couldn't see any way out.
The mind chatter is all negative. My inner critic is relentless in reminding me what I do wrong and what could go wrong if I try anything different.
But my inner critic is not to be trusted! I have learned to dismiss the negative self-talk and replace it with positive affirmations. I learned this by reading numerous self-help books, but also by cementing those ideas through my journaling.
Journaling has been my lifeline in times of turmoil.
It's time to go back to my daily journal. It's time to revisit positive affirmations and simple gratitudes. I need my journaling practice like I need fresh air. It keeps me sane.
My boxes of old journals under the bed have reminded me that today is a new day and it is never too late to start again. When you live with depression you have to hold that idea next to your heart and take it out and remind yourself.
Every single day and every single moment I have the opportunity to simply begin again.
I am looking forward to reestablishing a writing relationship with myself.
Now when I look at my old journals, I realize that I am not ready to discard them. They are filled with negativity, sure, but they are also filled with joy and so much hope. Those prose filled pages hold the weight of my struggles with myself; they tell the story of who I was, who I am and who I want to be. They are old friends.
I could leave the journals in boxes, hidden under my bed, but I think it would be more appropriate to take them out, one by one, and thank my past self for having the courage to express herself through words. I am proud of my words. I need to give them the reverence they deserve on a shelf where I can see them and remember my stories.
Today begins a new chapter in the book of my life. Every single day I get to turn the page and start again if that is what I need to do.
Welcome back, my beautiful words! I can't wait to get to know you as you fill the empty pages of my new journal. This next chapter is going to be absolutely wonderful!
© K. A. Bennett 2019. All rights reserved.
