I oft wonder about people who keep a diary. I’ve never faithfully done so; I think I’ve always been a little too dark and morbid. When I was young I thought I would love to be one of those bravely intelligent introspective souls, but then in the tragic thoughts of a teen, I was more “Wuthering Heights” than “Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants,” I had visions of dying and the diary I had secreted away in a hidden cranny of my closet would be discovered and it would become the albatross in the room at every family gathering. I still tried daily to scribble some me-ism in the book, I’d fill it with pages of things I thought my family would like to read, not what I really thought. So after a year of shielding my writing to put my thoughts in their best light, I let the practice die a slow and painful death. Having survived the teenage me, I sometimes wonder had I been honest in those writings, what would I find if I reread the passages today? Would I see the awkward, angst filled introvert in a new, wiser light? Probably so, I’ve definitely taken a more enlightened approach to that which is me. I reckon in a way I’d like to go back and meet that scared, quiet girl and tell her life isn’t typically Wuthering Heights and unless your Anne Frank no one but your moron brother is even remotely interested in your diary anyway but most important, don’t ever be afraid to feel.
The point? Well I’ve noticed that these days I am Post-it note diarist, writing my thoughts, affirmations, story ideas and even grocery lists on little post-it notes and sticking them everywhere. In fact, I recently went on a date with Jay and had a to-do list stuck firmly to my arse because I at some point must have sat on it. Luckily, he knows me well enough that he knows walking about sense isn’t my strong suit and he discreetly untagged me and folded it into his pocket. But dam, naw, never mind, even I can’t be embarrassed by me anymore. I did decide though, since I am about to have a small surgery in a few months, perhaps I should forgo the post-its for a little bit and write directly to journal. That way if things don’t go as smoothly as they should, they won’t be finding hidden tidbits of Cao-ism’s stuck to walls, mirrors and between cushions and pillows throughout my condo for the next 40 years.
Take from? Yep, it’s here. A diary can play many roles. It can be a confidant, a vehicle of self-expression, a tool that facilitates clarity of thought, or a repository of dreams. A diary can also be a powerful source of comfort during a challenging or traumatic time in life. When you record those insights and incidents don’t worry that they will be read, because when it’s done, shouldn’t the history of you be as individual and unique as you truly are? Fill your story with your triumphs AND your downfalls. Your chapters should chronicle your confidence, surety, passion, and bravery but also your weakness, ugly thoughts, and shortfalls. After all, in the end, when you have nothing left to say, isn’t it the all-inclusive gritty, beautifully messy, life encompassing package in the entirety that made you the person so loved by the reader, not just your soft glittery parts? Just something to think about. Slurls are here: https://anchailinalainn.com/last-known-slurls