A FEW DAYS AGO, I was reading Kathleen Pooler's blog. She was writing about her lifelong experience with journaling. If you have a chance, hop over and read it--very enlightening.
Kathy's post got me to thinking about my own experiences with journaling. I started with a little diary, a gift I received on my 11th birthday. It had a lock and key and a page for each day of the year. My entries were nothing more than simple, "No school today, watched soap operas and Let's Make a Deal."
It wasn't until I entered Junior High in 1974 that my serious affair with journaling took hold. During study hall I'd take a piece of notebook paper and write out my frustrations, releasing my teenage angst in the only way I knew how. With the ring of the bell, I'd fold my paper and tuck it into my pocket or my purse, guarding it with my life. Nobody would be allowed to see it. Ever. When I got home, it would become another painful installment in the mounting collection I kept in a notebook under my mattress.
This went on until I married my best friend in 1980 then resumed in the early 1990s when I went through a mental and emotional nightmare that I write about in my memoir.
There have been a few occasions when I've toyed with getting rid of what is now an entire box of journals but for reasons I can't explain, I'm unable to part with them.
How about you? Did you journal when you were a teenager and do you still today? And if so do you still have all of them?