Eventually some of the notebooks had to be destroyed due to being discovered. I had been careless and kept them in a not-secret-enough hiding space. Pillow cases - not a good place! The vulnerability of having so much raw emotion exposed left me extremely wounded and I ripped the pages into itty-bitty shreds, not willing to take the risk of them being read again.
Nevertheless, I continued journaling. In college, blogging took over much of the physical writing and has continued being my primary tool of brain flow, although about twice a month I still get out pen and paper and attempt processing my thoughts the old fashioned way. Occasionally I think back to those journals. All the pain, excitement, and naivety they held. Sometimes I wish I could go back and read them. To see how things have changed. If I've grown up, if I've followed my 16-year old dreams, the lessons I've learned and how the past has shaped me. I forget so much of my past! Sometimes I want to laugh at how hard I thought life was, and read about all the adventures I had growing up.
So... imagine my surprise when, before Thanksgiving my parents had their basement ceilings redone. Trust me, this is related. I jokingly asked Mom if there had been any surprises in the ceiling in my room. She laughed and said, "Actually, yes. There were a few notebooks and journals up there. He sat them on your shelf."
It was my ultimate hiding place - the rafters above my closet in the basement. As a kid I had to drag over a chair and reach on my tip-toes to stick the books in the ceiling. It was also possibly, maybe - ahem - where I hid a bottle of Crown Royal after an upperclassmen snuck it to me (why was I drinking Crown as a teenager?! Seriously... I thought it was so cool). The hiding space was a pain, but well worth the effort. I was giddy to see the dusty journals again. That night I stayed up extra late, just like when I was little. Reading by the small light of my closet, all the stories and heartaches, and joys of me as a kid came alive. It was hilarious. And heartbreaking. And surprising. And seriously, so funny. I really wrote terrible poems! If I eventually get brave, I'll share some on here.
I did want to share one of the entries. Just because it's fun. And it wasn't all about boys for once. It was written shortly after Christmas and the new year of the millennium and it was cute for a few reasons:
1) I had finally started dating Brady, my high school sweetheart. The decision to date him had apparently been, from reading previous entries, a laborious thought process of 'should I or shouldn't I?'. Which is hilarious because as unsure as I was in the beginning, I ended up falling head over heels for him and was completely devastated when it ended (although I pretended I wasn't). And I can say that now because it's almost 10-years later, we've clearly moved on, and no one cares about high school relationships anymore anyway. I also read the journal pictured below was a gift from him. It had a lock - perfect for protecting my secrets, and displayed #55 on the cover. Which he wanted me to change to #65 because that was his football number. Geesh, we were so cheesy!
2) It made me smile about how excited I was to get a new camera. It was a great reminder that this whole photography thing has been in my blood for a long, long time. It was my first SLR. A Nikon N60. Film. I adored that camera. Many 4-H ribbons were won with that beauty. It also reminded me I was such a goody-two shoes I couldn't even spell *ss in my own journal. Some things never change.
3) Being Junior-class president stressed the heck out of me. I had totally forgotten. And then it all hit me at once... reading how thrilled I was to have class fundraising over. The joys of organizing Jr./Sr. Prom...
All in purple sparkly gel pen for your reading pleasure.
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