Reading 1,000 Old Journal Entries and Finding Lessons of Hope
The tradition of keeping a diary became widely popularized during the Renaissance era. During one of the most artistic and expressive periods in history, it was a common method by which people could keep track of their thoughts and opinions, without the intention of publishing or revealing them. Leonardo Da Vinci, Frida Kahlo, Lewis Carroll, and Einstein all kept diaries at one point or another in their careers, most of which contain parts of their lives that were meant to remain behind the scenes. There is an allure of secrecy that surrounds the idea of keeping a detailed record of such personal affairs. Journaling or keeping a diary has always been shrouded in nuances of intimacy and privacy, which makes the concept of sharing mine publicly in this piece all the more ironic.
I started keeping a diary at thirteen, when I was in seventh grade. Now, five years later, I am eighteen, and I have never missed a day. I have almost exactly 1,643 entries now. They began as a sort of coping mechanism. In middle school, I was quite the people pleaser. Always keeping the walls high and guarded, with a too-wide-and-plastered smile, I kept most of my opinions, crushes, and annoyances to myself. I wrote about school, boys, drama, my family, my feelings, and was determined to create something tangible that wouldn’t allow me to forget anything about those pivotal years. Journaling was an outlet for me to release all of this as I was going through the struggles of growing up and becoming a teenager.
I love looking back and reading old entries and reflecting on how much I’ve changed. There is such a strange nostalgia that comes with being able to revisit the rotating cast of characters in my life and see myself grow up on paper. A lot of the time, it makes me laugh. Sometimes it makes me cry. Overarching though, I think there are such beautiful lessons to be learned in seeing the progression of a teenage girl through such a quintessential time in her life. I’ve learned so much about myself through these old read-throughs. I’ve gone through seven red composition books now, cover to cover. Every page full of rants, tear stains, coffee rings, excitement, and notions of figuring out the world around me.
There are often moments of realization that come with these visitations to the past, though. I spent a few hours the other week looking through my early high school entries, and couldn’t stop thinking to myself about how I could barely remember what it felt like to be her. So many of my thoughts on my own mental health, coping, my friendships, and love seem to be so distorted as I read through the lens of someone who has done a lot of healing since.
Early on in high school were some of the most difficult times I had ever experienced. At this time, for every kid, there is already so much growing that is happening everywhere you look. Every peer is changing in a new way, and finding your niche while being thrown into a new environment can be a climate shock for a lot of freshmen. Reading back, I see this reflected all too deeply. I was having so many firsts. The first battle with mental health, first love, first realization of the fact I was growing up. Here are a couple of excerpts that echo the tone of this time.
“Tuesday, January 30, 2018 - I feel so unsupported. I feel like nobody else realizes how hard it’s been for me. At [swim] practice me and [a friend] skip and sit under the stairs and cry, and wait to be picked up. I’m never going to be as good as I used to be, but I don’t even care. I have the worst imposter syndrome. I feel like I’m not sad enough to ask for pity or for it to count. Everyone else seems to have it just a bit worse, so I have to stay grateful.”
“Saturday, March 31, 2018 - I sat in the shower with my clothes on. That sort of seems like a new low, right? I’m convinced at this point that I’ve got to be the hardest person to be in love with. It’s really the only explanation for why things end like this time and time again.”
“Saturday, June 23, 2018 - I’m literally in Paris right now and yet all I can think about is how excited he would have been when I told him I bought him the first-edition, signed copy of his favorite book that I found on the top shelf of a little hole-in-the-wall in the Latin Quarter. But instead it stays there, and someone else will take it home instead.”
“Monday, November 5, 2018 - I can drive now, I skipped school and took myself to the library. There’s something about driving in fall here, when there’s a downpour at 10 am, that stops me from skipping the sad songs when they come up on shuffle.”
I look back at these times, all of which are centered around my freshman and sophomore years of highschool, and I can vividly feel how much pain I was in. It’s so terribly cliche, and you hear time and time again how things will “get better.” But if you’re anything like me, you don’t ever believe it. You hear it from your therapist, your parents, and your friends. You read it on the posters hung with a hotline number after a year of extreme loss of peers at school. In the thick of it, though, it’s impossible to even care about the light at the end of the tunnel, because as far as you’re concerned, you won’t get to the end to reach it anyway.
This year of dark patterns was followed by a lot of light, and happiness. I fell in love unexpectedly. I quit the sport that had been draining the life out of me for way too long. I started to cultivate a more direct and sure path for what I wanted in my future. Hell, I was able to truly envision a future for myself at all, and that alone was pretty riveting. I’m going to insert a few more excerpts from my journal, post this bad period, and I want you to soak in the contrast.
“Saturday, January 26, 2019 - It sounds ridiculous to say that I’m totally in love on the second date. So I’m not going to say it, and I’m writing it down instead, and praying he never gets ahold of this. Last year I remember [an older friend] telling me that you’re only going to find love when you finally stop looking for it, and I’m finding she wasn’t wrong.”
“Monday, April 8, 2019 - We made it to the Grand Canyon today. The drive was so long, but I’ve been waiting for this for so much longer. It’s insane. Think about the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen in your life, and multiply it. It’s a sort of psychedelic beauty. It leaves you with so many more questions than you found it with.”
“Sunday, July 8, 2019 - I’m on my first ever camping trip without my parents. Just me and some friends eating chicken noodle soup around the campfire that took us way too long to start. The sunset was so beautiful at Rainier. I felt so tiny in the most peaceful way.”
Life is not always flawless, even when you begin to pull yourself out of a dark place and start remembering all the things there are to live for. Since this time, I’ve definitely revisited the feelings of loss and heartbreak that I once felt in those initial entries. The difference though, is that I am able to push through the lowest points because I have these memories that I can rely on, of knowing I have made it out before.
I think all of this is why I never shut up about journaling and the power it holds. It has been such a transformative part of my life that as I applied for college this fall, and the main essay that I sent to many of my schools was about journaling. It’s something I’ll never stop being passionate about, because of the power that lies in preserving memories in such a way that helps you build a sense of intimacy with yourself and with your past. My diaries exist as tangible reminders that I can, and have, made it through even the darkest of months. This is why I feel like it’s almost selfish of me not to share that kind of hope with other people. It’s so impossible to grasp, though, when you’re in the depths of it, so I’ll leave you with this, from quite recently, as a reminder that there are days that will remind you of how special it is to live.
“Tuesday, November 23, 2020 - I feel so at peace. I finally got a really great job that I love, with people who are already bringing me so much comfort and security. [My boyfriend] came to visit me at work after a bad week, and I was reminded of how we always seem to find each other in our worst, and leave our arms open for the other anyways. School is so hard online, and I’m really struggling to find motivation most days. But I’ve finished all my applications. In a year I’ll be in college, with an entirely different life than the one I’m leading right now. Somehow that doesn’t scare me like it used to. Now I’m actually looking forward to a future. I’m really starting to be able to cut ties with some of my baggage. Not all of it quite yet, but I’m really finally accepting the fact that I will always be a work in progress, and that there is no end point to this whole healing thing. I am thankful.”