I started journaling when I was 9 years old.
These notebooks detail pretty much every aspect of my life since then. I would spend hours writing in them, every dream, every hope and every thought all laid out in painstaking detail. – they are the story of me.
I recently reread from ages 9 to 14. It was really embarrassing, cringe-worthy, hilarious and surreal, yet at the same time, it didn’t feel like I was reading about me. It was like reading about a stranger. A very angsty stranger – who could go over the same topic again and again, page after page. It was impressive and worrying all at the same time.
The experience was very insightful though. It was interesting (once you get past the cringing and sighing) to look back at past events, and my thoughts and feelings about them. I was able to make connections and spot things that I had been blind to the first time around. “Oh, that was flirting”, “Oh that’s what they were talking about”, “Yes, they were making fun of me” – that sort of thing.
It was also interesting to read about events/arguments/general teenage happenings that from what I had written seemed to be preceding the apocalypse and yet now, I can’t even remember. At the time, I’m sure I was convinced that what was happening was the most important thing to happen ever in the history of all time and yet now, even reading about it doesn’t make it ring a bell… On the plus side, it proves that when people tell you that one day, the embarrassing thing that happened won’t seem so bad one day, they were actually right.
I haven’t had much time for journaling lately so I’ve been playing with around with Bullet Journaling – which is worryingly addictive.
If you keep a diary or journal, or did in the past, have you ever gone back and read old entries? What did you think and feel? Let me know in the comments below?