Tonight I was looking for some things to pack next (we are moving and that’s another story altogether) I decided on a bunch of sweaters that I wasn’t even sure I wanted to keep, but I figured I could deal with that in the new house.
Underneath that pile was something I’d long forgotten about. A book I had been so ashamed of that I felt the inexplicable need to hide it. And as I write those words I realize how ashamed of my own feelings I’ve been.
It was my journal.
There is no more than 20-25 pages written in it. Most in messy, can’t write fast enough to get it all out fashion. What I read tonight is nothing I haven’t re-read before. Those words were penned at a very different time in my life. I was single, in my own place for the first time, navigating career and dating and dreams and doing the dishes and the meaning of life all on one page.
I’m not sure why I’ve hid that book for so many years. There really isn’t anything too incriminating to find.
But let me tell you this. What I found was a collections of thoughts and innermost feelings from 4-5 years ago. I in-fact read an entry I wrote 4 years ago to the day. What I found was fascinating and scary and wildly motivating. I found the words on those pages to be what I have been hearing in my head throughout the past few years. Words that I’ve felt that I didn’t know how to put to paper, but at that time I did. The same anxiety. The same stress. The same questions. The same fears.
Yet tonight when I reread it I was able to get through the whole thing page by page. Because in the past I’d start to read an entry it would get too hard to deal with I’d get pretty upset with myself and slam the book shut and hide it again. Hoping to forget the very feelings that were inside of it. Four years later I realize that I’ve let each one of those things define me…until now.
Tonight I read those entries looking back and feeling sorry for the girl that wrote them. Getting pissed off at hearing her say the same thing day after day never making a decision or a change. And getting even more upset that this is what my life is like today. That I haven’t gotten any farther in personal growth in the past four years.
So I am making a change.
I’m keeping that journal out. Heck I may even put it on the shelf for all to see. Because that my friends will be the motivation I need to move forward.
No more staying stuck.
No more being lazy.
No more letting this depression define me.
And in four years from now I want to look back and reread a journal filled with triumph, knowing that there will be disappointment and yucky days, but that I see a pattern of forward movement in my hopes, thoughts, dreams and life.
Big and different things are coming my way, I know it!
– Jess 🙂