About six months ago, I started keeping a diary.
Just like probably everyone, I had done this during my early childhood but had never pursued it continuously, so there are only a few entries witnessing the embarrassing thoughts of growing-up-me.
However, as I got older, I had started scribbling down various thoughts crossing my mind on different mediums, such as notebooks, random sheets or word documents. Rediscovering them is always an interesting experience, sometimes rather cringeworthy, but mostly really intriguing. It feels a bit like travelling back in time, meeting myself in the past, remembering the circumstances that made me pick up a pen and get events and thoughts off my mind.
How much do you remember about the person you were seven, five, two years ago? What did you do back then, what made you upset, what lifted your spirits, which problems did you have to deal with, what broke your heart, what caused you to shed tears? I personally do not recall nearly enough, and that’s why I am thankful that I wrote about it.
Besides remembering good or slightly worse times, being reminded of the ways I thought, how my brain worked and what mattered to me, I got some comforting realisations as well:
- I have forgotten about problems whose weight seemed to crush me back then. I simply have not thought about them in years.
- Things get better. I have this little project on my tumblr, where I sporadically post about my day, little thoughts, emotions I felt, activities. There are periods when those little texts feel a bit darker, a little less bright. But that is okay – because they get better, happier again. Always.
- Some dreams and plans which had been stuck in my head a while ago are about to become more than that, and that feels incredibly empowering.
- Even though I have changed and grown in some ways over the course of the years I still recognise myself in most of these texts.
In September I finally decided I wanted to journal on a regular basis. Liking the idea of sitting down every night to write down the events of the day and having an outlet for my emotions at the same time, I ordered a plain black notebook and just let the flow of thinking back over the day grip hold of me.
Now, after having filled one entire book I can proudly look at 192 pages, overflowing with thoughts worth of six months of my life. Even though it was annoying sometimes, even though I had to force myself to grab that pen and focus on the lines in front of me, I am glad that I did not surrender to my weaker self and pulled through it, because I know that will thank myself in a couple of years. Giving up half an hour which I could spend sleeping will allow me to look back at these times when I am older. All these texts that I collect are a witness of my own journey, proving my personal development and I have no plans on stopping anytime soon.