First journal

Thordora asks us to write about a first.

I have a trunk that is half full of journals. They are mostly regular old marble cover composition books, but there are also a few cute ones, and some lovely padded cover ones, all received as gifts. I have been journaling since I was in eighth grade.

Ms. Boulder required her English students to write in journals. I don’t remember whether we had to write every day, once a week, or what, and I don’t remember how she graded us for them (not on content or spelling, must have just been that we were writing). I think I remember sometimes having class time to write, usually with some kind of prompt. I don’t even remember what reasons she gave us for making us write.

What I do remember is that it clicked with me.

Sometimes you don’t really understand your thoughts and feelings unless you have to put them into words.

Sometimes the act of writing about something helps you metabolize those thoughts and feelings, working through them and getting to the other side.

Sometimes it gives new insights.

Sometimes having an audience — even if it’s only yourself — is comforting. It’s encouraging and supporting to be taken seriously and respected, even if it’s only by yourself.

Sometimes it’s interesting — or painful, or funny, or reassuring, or convicting, or, or… — to look back at previous journals and see what life was like then.

My first journaling was mostly diary-style — what I was doing, how I thought and felt about it.

When I came to faith, I started addressing my journal to God. For a long time my journal entries were in the form of prayers. Writing prayers is a great way to stay focused and not fall asleep or follow distractions. These prayers reveal a lot about my faith at the time; the phrases that recur, the bless lists, the efforts to include praise and adoration and not just requests.

Sometimes I would include Bible study notes. I have one where I compared the four Gospels, listing all the bits in four columns, to see where they were parallel and where they diverged. It was interesting, but I still don’t have a good idea of the differences and agreements among them. I think part of the problem is that I’ve mostly read them together. I am now in the process of reading Luke until Christmas; I did that once before with Philippians and it was a valuable way of organizing reading.

I kept a separate journal for poetry (in the front) and musings or personal essays (in the back).

There are sometimes long gaps in my journals these days. I hardly wrote anything during pregnancy, and I haven’t been writing much since, oh, April or May. But that PPD time in between is densely filled.

I still address my entries to God. They are no longer official prayers, but more like conversations with a friend. No, I don’t think God’s only purpose is to be my best buddy, but I don’t think his only purpose is to be far off and high up either. He is both transcendent and immanent. I cast my cares on him because he cares for me, as Peter wrote. I don’t completely understand God’s psychology of the human self, but I trust him to be with me and guide me and provide for me as I work at it.

I love blogging, because it’s part journal, part essay, and includes whatever audience cares to be included, without requiring anyone to attend who doesn’t want to.

But I will always keep a private paper journal as well, for just me and God, and, when useful, for a therapist and for Mark.