I found some old journals from my early 20s (20-25 years to be precise). I went through a phase of using one exact journal type that looked like old manuscript. I stopped journalling when I couldn’t get a restock. As I read through them I saw my growth, I was reminded of memories and experiences I had forgotten. Truthfully, I shed some tears reading through it but they weren’t necessarily sad tears. I noticed that one of the journals had two extra pages so I penned down a love letter to my diary. It’s one I’d like to share here as well.
Dear Diary,
Isn’t it amazing how much of my memories you have kept within the lines of your pages; my secrets, my fears, my hopes and dreams. Your pages have felt my fury on some days as the ball point of my pen sunk into with deft speed. And on other days you have reached out to wrap me in an embrace. Your pages have felt my tear drops and like a mother, you let them soak into you as if to absorb the pain from me. Without speaking, you helped me reach moments of clarity time and time again. When I kept running in circles over the same issues, you were patient with me, generous with your lines and never judging me. When I got good news to share, you became a storage bank for them.
You were my first love. The ability to blog and be vulnerable came from you. You were the first drop that became the ocean that is my reality today. You made me who I am. I could not access therapy but you stepped in and filled the shoes like they were always made for you. In your pages, I lost and found myself. In your pages, I was given room to be myself completely. You allowed me to write in you what I could not say out loud. I will forever be grateful that I had you as a companion growing up. While my brain learnt to let go of some memories, you held on to them for me, knowing that someday I would need them. You were one of the best things to have happened to me. You stuck through crushes, relationship cycles, heart breaks, family feuds and identity crises. The greatest gift you gave me was the freedom to freely express myself and in doing so, you helped me find my way.
I may be older now and not keep up my appointments with you as much as I should but there are days I will come to sit with you, so you may remind me where I have come from. Remind me to take it easy on myself by showing me how far I’ve come. Remind me of how I’ve shed juvenile patterns. Remind me that I have healed. Remind me that I’m living out some of the dreams I wrote down in you, that I probably even forgot. Remind me of the strength I possess; that I’ve had bad days and experiences that I thought were the end of the world but I pulled through. Remind me that if a chapter ends, another one begins. Remind me to laugh by pulling out a funny story from your bank. Remind me of the badass that I am, have been and always will be.
Love,
The Girl Who Always Comes Back to You
