It’s Christmas Eve. I’m sick with a cold. So is Sam. There is no snow in Colorado this year. The dog will not stop licking himself there. But, it is all perfect. Really, it is.
For every annoyance, setback and sad story, it seems there are ten blessings, comebacks and joys.
You just have to know where to look. And, what to focus on.
I have kept a journal since I was eight years old. It started as a small rectangular baby blue diary with a lock and key.
I used to write in it daily – this was before I did much soul searching. It was really about relaying the events of the day. “Today I had oatmeal. I was sick so I stayed home and played with myself” (get your mind out of the gutter). Or, on August 16, 1977, when I was ten years old, “Today Elvis died. I hated him but some people didn’t.” I would say I hated him. I didn’t even know him. What I probably meant was I didn’t care for his music.
As the years progressed, the journals became full of relentless soul searching, a quest for happiness and peace of mind, questioning about love and why my heart was breaking so much of the time.
There was the undying crush on someone who turned out to be gay , the depression that held me down during my first year of college (“I really wish I had someone to talk too. How I hate being so unhappy”), the seven year relationship that had more ups and downs and heartache than should have ever been allowed (“All I want is to have someone love me as intensely and powerfully as I love them”), the meeting of Ken (I guess they say you know when it is right. I’m feeling pretty right”). And the spontaneous move to Colorado with him a year later.
Two cars. All of our belongs. No jobs. No place to live. No friends. No family. 2,500 miles from home. An adventure.
In all of these volumes of paper are common threads and themes. Insecurity. Love of family. Spiritual crises. Not feeling good enough. Knowing good things awaited, just not knowing when. It wasn’t all bad. I had many, many good years and memories. But I tended to write about the tough stuff, the self reflection:
“I want to be a vehicle, a vessel for God’s work – let him put me to work where I have the most potential, the most passion to make a difference.”
Browsing over these books makes me smile through tears. I want to reach out to that girl and tell her it will be okay. That she will find the confidence to settle into her own life. That she will meet the “right one.” That two little precious people would call her “mommy” one day. That she would wake up Christmas Eve 2010 and be completely full to the brim with the good stuff.
It’s not all perfect. Please.
Mostly, what I want to tell me back then is that “you were enough just how you were.” More than enough.
18 years old. December 1985 (25 years ago):
“You know what I realize…how important it is to be your own self with personal identity. I find that hard sometimes – to do what I want not what others want…”
She was onto something even back then. It just takes some time to fully embrace the act of being yourself. And, knowing what you have to give back.
I don’t know what all this means, just some ramblings about my journey and how it continues to evolve.
Have you ever kept a journal? Why/why not? What do you think when you look back at stuff?
Merry Christmas my friends. May today find you at peace and able to see the blessings around you.