I have had journals nearly my entire life. I write all my secrets in there. I can go back as far as 30 years, which is insane and really funny to read. They start out with how much I love Gilligan's Island, how my little brothers annoy me and silly things that are of the utmost importance to an 8 year old. Oh and how I was going to marry Bo Duke. Don't judge.
Around January of 1984 they cease to be funny. You see, that is when my dad died. It is heartbreaking to read all the emotions I was feeling...to read the words of a child making promises to whomever would listen to bring her father back. I would write down dreams that he was in, write letters to him, I would ask him questions...like what heaven was like, who would walk me down the aisle, could he see me, would he help me study for my spelling test and did he forgive me for hating God. When I found out my dad died is the moment I decided to hate God. It didn't bode well with the fact that I went to a Catholic school and we had to attend mass weekly. I would go because I had to and the entire time I would be so angry that I couldn't stand it. It took years for me to finally let go of the anger. My journal never judged me.
I wrote about my first crush, Brenden Allen, in much detail. Right down to the fact that he never brushed his unruly red hair and it was almost a deal breaker when he asked me to be his girlfriend. I wrote about my big move from NJ to Southern CA to live with my older sister right after my father passed away and how excited I was. I thought for sure I was going to be discovered. Pfth.
It is all there...my first kiss, first day of high school, crying over silly boys, laughing with friends, trouble I got into, teachers that were Satan, my first car, complaining about rules I could not understand, equal entries whining and adoring my sister and brother in law who raised me, friends I thought I would know forever and what college I wanted to go to. Journals followed me through my first huge heartbreak after dating someone for nearly 7 years...reading the angst I felt back then made me sad for that girl and thankful for both of us that we didn't stay together. Finishing school, first real job working as a counselor, moving from Southern CA to the east coast. Reconnecting with my mother and younger siblings. Trying so hard to fix years of absence. Reading my journals are like a travel through time.
Most importantly though are the entries from the last few years. Learning how to love another with all your heart and soul. Giving in to something bigger then I could have ever imagined. I love love reading about us in the early days of our marriage. We had a whirlwind relationship so I really didn't know all his likes and dislikes. Dinners were a hit or miss. He never complained though. He ate whatever I put in front of him. Poor guy. Our first time camping, I wore Victoria's Secret silk pjs. I wasn't trying to be all sexy, I just thought..hey they are pants..they will keep me warm. City girl. The first time we went hiking, I wore Coach boots. They ended up muddy and ruined. City girl. No matter what I do/did or how crazy I make him...every single night he tells me he loves me and we sleep touching. That of course is all written in my journal.
A blog feels like cheating. My sweet journals...the dozens that I own....will you forgive me if once in a while I share some of my secrets I tell you with my blog?
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I still write in my journals, there is nothing like taking pen to paper and spending time writing things out that you would not dare say out loud. Blogging lets me open up a bit more. It takes a while for me to open up and really get to know someone. Sometimes a really long time. I am always grateful for the people who realize this and wait around for me to let my walls down.
love, Romy
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