My entire life, I had kept journals up until my highly valued privacy was violated about 10 years ago. My secret thoughts and desires were being read by an ex when I was away at work. I wondered why he was becoming so passive-aggressive in our day-to-day conversations. Then finally in an argument he revealed that he was threatened by my past, which of course he couldn’t have known about unless… So, I took all my cherished notebooks and in a fit of rage, I ripped them to shreds in our livingroom. I had to protect the remaining privacy of what he had yet to read.
All those years of thoughts usually written when I was snuggled in bed or spending some brooding time at a coffee shop during my goth days, all gone. What was the point of ever trying to write again if there was a chance of that happening once more?
About 5 years ago I started a file folder of pictures I had torn from magazines. Furniture, recipes, hair styles, shoes, gift ideas, clothing, anything I found pretty or interesting or something I aspired for was in this folder. I would pull it out before a shopping trip to remind myself of things to be on the lookout for. It was becomming a bit of a mess and loose bits of paper were getting lost. I finally decided to sit down and neatly cut and paste it all in a small spiral notebook. Thus began my new form of journal keeping. I can look at every picture and know exactly how I was feeling when something inspired me. No revealing words. No brooding. Nothing I want to hide. Everything I want to share. I plan on sharing some pages from my first journal periodically. I finally started a new notebook last month.
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