Journaling Saves Sanity

Raising 4 small children in the 70s and 80s was very stressful at times.  Dennis was gone all week and sometimes more than that in the truck.  I lived 45 miles from my mom, and although Dennis' mom helped as much as she could, I still had a lot of responsibility on my shoulders.

I would have probably gone insane if it hadn't been for bingo with Georgia, Dennis' mom, and my journaling.  I kept a spiral wire bound notebook for several years, in which I confided all my fears, sorrows, resentments, as well as appointments, important events and how I reacted to them, and the happy times as well. I kept my journal hidden, because of the nature of my entries. I didn't want Dennis to know how unhappy I was during that time, and, to tell the truth, after I wrote my bitching down, it just didn't seem all that bad after all.

So I'd write and put it away until the next post, and then write some more.  I wrote after supper, while the kids were napping, while they did their homework, and often late at night while everyone was asleep.  It was my own space, timewise and physically, when I could have a quiet moment alone.  I treasured those moments.  I could cry quietly when I felt the need.  My journal never questioned my judgment, it never told me to "get over it."  It never made any faces at me, or made jokes about my sensitivities.  It was almost the perfect shoulder to cry on.

It just wasn't a soft shoulder.  It didn't dry my tears. It never solved any problems for me.  I still had to do all those things.  But it was very important to me, and I'm glad I did it.  I do wish I'd kept those journals.  I threw them away because I was afraid my growing kids or husband might find them and learn how much I shouldered while taking care of them.

Now, I've started doing more journaling again. I have a paper journal, and this, my blog, to confide in. Of course, I'm careful what I put in them, just in case, but I still find them a comfort to me when I'm feeling down.

In this age, with all the craziness going on around me, I need some way to express my concerns and fears, my sorrows, and my happiness as well.

Thank you Journal for keeping me sane.  I really should name you.  Journal just sounds so lame. I know, I'm going to name you Teresa, after my daughter.  I hereby christen my journal Teresa Marie.

I feel better now.