Write your life, know yourself. That has been my mantra for over two decades. I came up with it when I first started to write in a journal. When my eldest son was a baby, I began a lifelong pursuit of self awareness. I had this perfect little person in my world, and I’d always wanted to have children, and although I loved him so very much, I became horribly aware of my messy, mixed-up mind. How was I going to raise my son in a happy and healthy way if I felt constantly bombarded by the negatives in my childhood, my struggles to fit in, my terribly low self worth?
My first efforts at writing in my journal were very guarded. I felt like I had to hide my journal where nobody would see it. I was a little paranoid that someone would read my words and tell me I was crazy for feeling all those feelings, thinking all those thoughts. I wrote in the beginning of my first journal ‘Do not read this journal.’ I wanted a lock box, or a filing cabinet. Oddly enough, I never got either. I hid it under my mattress, in the back of my wardrobe, places like that, and soon realised that nobody was out to discover the emotional outpourings of my soul.