Once again, I begin a new journal as I close out the old. I’ve lost count of how many journals I have written over the years since the age of 12. I am now 72. Journaling, in the beginning, was a form of therapy; a way to write the words of pain on a piece of paper. I would discover that through the writing down of my thoughts, I could be somewhere else, somewhere without pain and sadness. As the years have passed and the journals were filled one by one, I felt a sense of completion for many of the childhood memories I wanted to forget.
As I entered adulthood and discovered that through relationships, which were not meaningful, I began a process of writing to express what I felt inside as a mother, a wife, and a grandmother. I wrote in my journals how I felt I had nothing to offer anyone. That I had failed as a mother, failed in my marriages, and failed God. Yet a voice I knew, that had always been there with me as a child, laying on a table in the emergency room, chin split wide open, saying, “Jesus, Oh Jesus,” was now saying, “Persevere” “I ‘am with you”.
In my first marriage, as a young Catholic girl, at age 18, I looked forward to marrying and being a wife and eventually a mother. But that was not to happen so early in my life. Journaling soon became a daily habit and my prayer life developed intensely over time. I grew closer to God. I gave Him my two kids in life to help me with and as time continued, my grandchildren through prayer. I also gave him my pain from the ongoing chemotherapy and all that came with cancer treatments. But I had to keep writing because of so many heartbreaks I encountered.
Today, I have no contact with my two adult children and four grandchildren. I lost a child that I carry in my heart each day. I have lost three of my siblings, and 3 marriages gone bad, and yet, journaling tells the story as it always has. I will continue to Trust God who knows my heart for the good I have done in life, and grateful for today. I sacrificed a lot in raising my children so that so that they could have a better life. I wasn’t perfect, no one is, but the most important thing is that if my grandchildren were to pick up these dusty journals one day, they will know the story. I will never stop journaling till I am unable to write, or I am called home, my writings will speak for me. They are words of truth. Journals tell a story.
I will and I thank you for your support always
Journalling gives one a chance for personal introspection as well as for personal reflection my dear Nightingale. The “tragedies to the triumphs” in one’s life as documented inside a personal journal provides an “up-close” perspective to the time in which the events have occurred to the writer as well as to the reader. Snapshots in time are “timeless” and of great valuable insight. I think of the personal diary of Anna Frank who gave us all a gift through her words, descriptions, feelings and hope. Our words once documented can be later reviewed in the future by family member/s to provide them with your living legacy. That is a true blessing for the reader as for the writer. What a great way to bridge the “time gap” that lets them have a chance to know who you were. Keep writing your “living legacy” Nightingale. Coram Deo!