With both feetI had an inspiring fire-side conversation tonight. I remembered that I am staunchly neglecting a huge part of my soul.
Since I was 14, I began journaling. I am a chronicler, a recorder, a keeper of lists & data that helps me mark my passage through life. I did this via the written word - naturally, for me - and now, at age 29, have 10 journals chronicling my journey through pre-pubescence, adolescence, and young adulthood. I am a night owl, and would woo my anxious mind to sleep by emptying it onto the paper. I would consider myself failed if I journaled less than nightly. I found god through journaling; i found my spouse; i found myself.
Curious to me, I found myself less interested in journaling once I got married. For obvious reasons, I now was less lonely and introspective at bed time - and since my husband is lovely - he now rubs my arms and head to woo my mind out of anxiety and off to sleep. I then also entered the demanding career of educating high schoolers, so I often had zero energy at night. Sadly - all of these frustrations became the guilty thieves of my journal. I do have a journal that I started when I got married 5 years ago, but it's a rather large journal, so it's is hard to fill the pages. The entries are sporatic and guilt-filled at the neglect of my life. I would then obsess about catching up my journal on my life and it became boring and monotonous.
However, I do have this to offer the world. I have the chronicle of a life to leave for my descendants. I must remotivate and refocus on the importance of this project. It may be this very blog.
Thank you, kb.