Reading old journals

Lately, my time is taking up with rereading my old journals. I picked the box starting mid-2013 and reading my way through the present moment. Back then I was still journalling a lot. Something I’ve stopped doing in the past few years.

It’s no secret that 2018 has been a shit year so far. There honestly is no other word for it. From losing my job to burnout to walking the edge (and dipping into) a dark depression to ending a relationship and everything that goes with it, 2018 has not made my list of happy years. Giving all the just mentioned things I’ve decided not to be stubborn this time and try to fix it myself. I’ve done that before and to be honest I still have unresolved issues from that.

My therapist is an empathetic woman who put her finger on the sore spot immediately: I don’t allow myself to feel things. I mean I do, but not really. I know things are there, but I don’t acknowledge them. Or at least I didn’t do that for most of 2018. I just shoved everything away into the deepest, darkest corners of my mind. If it’s not there, it doesn’t get to play a part.

But it did.

It still does.

And some of the things I’ve shoved away earlier in the year are things that are still relevant today. I know not every thought I have is true. Thoughts are fleeting, and you shouldn’t always believe them. But you should trust what you feel when you feel it. So that’s the homework my therapist gave me: feel the feelings. This kind of reminds me of ‘feel the fear and do it anyway’. And I feel a lot of fear.

So that’s why I’m rereading my old journals. Not because it’s fun to read about a five-year younger me struggling with things that I am still trying to learn. Or going through things that I know now won’t play out all that well. Or turn out to be not important at all. But I’m reading it anyway. To connect to a part of myself that has gotten buried under the rubble of fear, doubt, and a complete lack of self-worth.

I’m reading journals to help me let go of things I’ve been carrying around for so long. Fear that stops the impulses, good or bad. A fear I want to let go of.

I saw a quote this week that I think sums up pretty much how I feel about the last few months left of this year:

  So that’s what I’m doing. I’m staring the last two months of 2018 right in the eye and I’m yelling plot twist.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.