As you might know, I’ve been thinking about shredding my journals for the past year or more. I kept saying I was going to, but I never did.
I don’t know.
I started to shred my journals on the 4th of July. I figured if we are celebrating our independence, I might as well start getting my independence from the past. Actually, it was an Ahhh! Ahhh! moment I had in the shower. I wondered if I died tomorrow if I would want anyone to read my journals.
The answer was no. NO. NO. NO.
Would anyone benefit from reading them? No. Do I think anyone wants to read them? No. No one really needs to know about the problems I had in the past, but me. At least, not in notebook form after I have passed.
Do I think I’m going to die tomorrow? I hope not, but you never know.
If I’m being honest with myself, I should have done it a long time ago. Hindsight is always 20/20.
I’ll quit shoulding on myself. I’m doing it now and that is what is important. What I have been doing is skimming through them, ripping out pages that speak to me and putting them in a small box. I will look at them later. (Yeah. Yeah. I know.) I shred the rest of the pages and recycle the covers and metal spiral.
Most of what I have been reading are problems that I have had in the past with boyfriends and money. Most of the problems are in the past and solved. There are a couple of small items I am still dealing with, but I am not worried about them. Some of the stuff I don’t even remember the people or the problems.
I realized I kept my journals because I thought they would help me deal with any problems that came up from the past. That if I needed to remember something from that time I could look it up, but what I realize is that most of that stuff doesn’t even matter anymore. It doesn’t occupy my space so why should my journals?
I’m dealing with adult issues now like menopause and marriage and how I want to live the rest of my life. Stuff that is happening right now in my life.
I figure if there is something or someone I need to remember the universe or God will bring me the people or places and help me to remember what I need to remember. I don’t need my journals to remind me.
I need to let my journals go so I can move into a new part of my life. So that space can be occupied by something in the present/future. Not the past.
I’m ready to move forward and see what life has in store for me.
As I was sitting by the fire last night I realized that I could probably put all of my journals in the fire pit and let them all go up in smoke in one night. The thought almost gave me a heart attack. I’m definitely not ready to do that yet. One at a time is fine for me right now.
Onward and upward.