You are so lucky to have chronicled your younger life. I once did that for an English class in my first year of college in 1975. When I look back it it strikes me, like yours, as full of youthful angst, some confusion and hope for the future. That was when I was 21 and I wish I could have chronicled my travel adventures chasing waves in France, Spain, Morocco and Portugal in the years preceding that (18-21). I also keep meaning to start a video recounting of my life that I could share with my antecedents. I always think it would be so cool to see something similar from, say, my great-great grandfather. As it is I only know family history starting from my grandparents, previous generations and a complete unknown.
Oh. My. Yes. I had this experience in 2020, going through first the boxes of correspondence left behind in my mother's things upon her death, and then going through my own saved stuff as I packed to leave the house I'd been in for 25 years. It was very bittersweet. I looked at it, read some of it, then sent it all into the flames: that girl, that life, it's all gone. Yes, remnants live on inside the old woman's body I now inhabit, just like most of the furniture came with me from that old life to the new. But it was cathartic to send the remnants of the dead past into the flames. She's gone, let her lie.
You glorious human you. My first thought looking at your gorgeous leather gold-y journals was jealousy. I wrote on left over house papers, never gave respect for "that me" to write on beauty, with beauty. Now I do. Next thought, dear writer, is that none were lost due to fire, water, anger, moving. Think of that door-not-chosen that could have silenced young you. Horrific.
Oh oh oh! I love this. I've read many of my old journals but they were from much younger years mostly, when I gave each day a grade and the world wasn't so big. =) What a gift you have.
LaDonna, you were really insightful in your younger years. And to know that you were going to re read your journals was forward thinking. My journals were so ordinary - that my haircut was too short and people laughed at me, or I had a crush on a boy who didn't acknowledge me at all. I went to a class reunion later in my life and talked to that boy who didn't even recall that we sat next to each other in 9th grade algebra class.
I really enjoy reading the Long Scrawl- keep it coming!
Oh my God, this made me want to cry. I could have written this about me at that age. Unfortunately I threw out almost all my poems and journals from that time, afraid if something happened to me and someone found them someday I would be embarrassed. I love the fact that you were able to revisit that young woman and feel my tender and that she knew you would come back to her someday. ❤️
I’ve been trying to decide what to do with my journals from the same years of difficult, emotional growth (except mine are all in those black and white Composition Books). I considered letting them go when I shed just about everything else to move to Portugal. Yet here they are! Maybe they still have something to teach me as I undergo this transition to a new life.
It often takes courage to look back and so happily accept the old self and how it helped you progress to the future self. Congrats on your openness and freedom to forgive what seemed like mistakes at the time (they were all simply part of growth).
You are so lucky to have chronicled your younger life. I once did that for an English class in my first year of college in 1975. When I look back it it strikes me, like yours, as full of youthful angst, some confusion and hope for the future. That was when I was 21 and I wish I could have chronicled my travel adventures chasing waves in France, Spain, Morocco and Portugal in the years preceding that (18-21). I also keep meaning to start a video recounting of my life that I could share with my antecedents. I always think it would be so cool to see something similar from, say, my great-great grandfather. As it is I only know family history starting from my grandparents, previous generations and a complete unknown.
Oh. My. Yes. I had this experience in 2020, going through first the boxes of correspondence left behind in my mother's things upon her death, and then going through my own saved stuff as I packed to leave the house I'd been in for 25 years. It was very bittersweet. I looked at it, read some of it, then sent it all into the flames: that girl, that life, it's all gone. Yes, remnants live on inside the old woman's body I now inhabit, just like most of the furniture came with me from that old life to the new. But it was cathartic to send the remnants of the dead past into the flames. She's gone, let her lie.
You glorious human you. My first thought looking at your gorgeous leather gold-y journals was jealousy. I wrote on left over house papers, never gave respect for "that me" to write on beauty, with beauty. Now I do. Next thought, dear writer, is that none were lost due to fire, water, anger, moving. Think of that door-not-chosen that could have silenced young you. Horrific.
Oh oh oh! I love this. I've read many of my old journals but they were from much younger years mostly, when I gave each day a grade and the world wasn't so big. =) What a gift you have.
LaDonna, you were really insightful in your younger years. And to know that you were going to re read your journals was forward thinking. My journals were so ordinary - that my haircut was too short and people laughed at me, or I had a crush on a boy who didn't acknowledge me at all. I went to a class reunion later in my life and talked to that boy who didn't even recall that we sat next to each other in 9th grade algebra class.
I really enjoy reading the Long Scrawl- keep it coming!
I loved this. I also kept daily journals (age 11-19). But reading messages to yourself from younger you-that’s precious.
What you write about memory is so true.
Oh yeah, all of this resonates, for sure. Especially how memory proves to be an unreliable narrator.
Oh my God, this made me want to cry. I could have written this about me at that age. Unfortunately I threw out almost all my poems and journals from that time, afraid if something happened to me and someone found them someday I would be embarrassed. I love the fact that you were able to revisit that young woman and feel my tender and that she knew you would come back to her someday. ❤️
I’ve been trying to decide what to do with my journals from the same years of difficult, emotional growth (except mine are all in those black and white Composition Books). I considered letting them go when I shed just about everything else to move to Portugal. Yet here they are! Maybe they still have something to teach me as I undergo this transition to a new life.
I read through a lot of mine before I moved to Portugal 2 1/2 years ago. Maybe I kept some in storage. I hope so.
It often takes courage to look back and so happily accept the old self and how it helped you progress to the future self. Congrats on your openness and freedom to forgive what seemed like mistakes at the time (they were all simply part of growth).