Reflections

I spent at least an hour last night reading through my old journals. I have 5 volumes on hand and I'm sure I have a boat load more packed away in Memphis. It was nice recalling the fun times I had during travels and chronicling major, life changes. I read through journals from middle school, high school, college, grad school and recent years. When reading through the hardships, I recognized the pain I was feeling at the time, but I also felt empowered knowing that on the other side of those tough times, the here and now, I'm a stronger, happier person as a result of the lessons learned. These threshold moments, like failing Chemistry miserably during my freshman year of college and having to repeat it during the summer, created the resilient woman I am today. I wrote about getting dumped a few months before graduation in high school because the boy I was dating didn't want to be committed to anyone knowing a world of women awaited his arrival to college. Who was he to deny them the pleasure of his stimulating conversation? My family dog, who I grew up with from age 4, died a random summer I was away for an upward bound program. She was a family member to me and was always ready to defend me whenever my mom came into my room telling me to tidy up. I drew crying faces all over the pages. I was waitlisted by my number one choice for college, UNC at Chapel Hill, and was straight up rejected by my second choice, Duke University. The rejection was discouraging at the time, but it was a HUGE blessing, especially since my BFF and I ended up rooming together freshman year and I met so many amazing people I wouldn't trade for the world while at Vandy! There were instances where I found myself in the same circumstances repeatedly and in one entry, I wrote, "How am I finding myself here again? What lessons haven't I learned?!"

"Nothing ever goes away until it teaches us what we need to know." - Pema Chodron

After repeating the same mistakes ten times over, I'm excited to have my journals as records to share with my children someday. I know it's a weird thing to lump into their inheritance, but I hope they'll appreciate the transparency of unfettered access to my journals. There are a lot of grammatical errors, run-on sentences (something I'm still working on...), and overall terrible penmanship. Some of it is cringeworthy. A few of the entries are out of touch with who I have become, but I appreciate this most of all. The beautiful thing about it all is the ability to really see the growth I've experienced since those times. Journaling has always been so cathartic, allowing me to release my uncensored thoughts and revisit them later with an enriched perspective. In recent years, with greater critical analysis, I have experienced a shift in the midst of writing the entries, questioning the validity of my thoughts as I jot them down and working through context to recognize my own faults and what thinking brought about these events. This is a far cry from my middle school entries where I wrote about the fabulous career I hope to have, the family I look forward to beginning in the distance future, and the generational struggles I hope to erase from my family history moving forward. I vacillated between past and future, which left little room for enjoying the present.

“Everything that happens to you is your teacher. The secret is to learn to sit at the feet of your own life and be taught by it." - Polly B. Berends

It's funny to think about the way life can show us something intended to help and we think it's meant to hurt us instead; how we view the intentions behind these occurrences are all that really matter. When we decide that "this thing" is not to our demise/detriment, instead it has come to heal something we didn't even know was broken, we have the victory over it. As human beings, we're too quick to see the bad or label something as harmful, when in fact it can heal another part of our lives. Yes, we might struggle through the experience, but it can shed light on an area in our lives that needs repair and acknowledge voids left unchecked. In the end, the discomfort we felt during the process is a win and the scars, bumps and bruises are badges of honor. We can't grow in comfort so our survival depends on our willingness to endure the angst of venturing outside of our zones of comfort.

Though I wasn't always consistent with my journaling, I have always been passionate about it. Many of the pages within my journals were detailed illustrations of my "dream home" and business plans, complete with logo designs. I'd completely forgotten that I dreamt up The Baker's Dozen at 17 years old as an online boutique of odds and ends vintage pieces that I'd find in thrift and consignment stores. Reading through those passages was an emotional experience that really brought things full circle for me. I also wrote about things that are no longer on my radar. I laugh thinking about the priorities that belonged to a person that exists in remnants. If you grew up writing in journals (or diaries, because let's be honest, journals are diaries without locks and silly illustrations on the fronts of them), take some time to read through one of them today. If you've never been one to write in a journal, I URGE you to find an empty notebook and let your pen dance across the pages. The feeling is unmatched. Writing down your thoughts and decades later reflecting on them are free therapy sessions.

Thanks for reading.

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