I received my 1st journal when I was 13 years old. The first thing, I wrote about was the heartbreak of a relationship. Looking back on that time, it was definitely “puppy love”. Lol!

My love for writing was definitely inspired by my mother who also was an avid writer. She loved journaling and writing poetry, too. She even penned a book (draft) about the challenges of being bipolar that I hope to publish one day. Although, she has Alzheimer’s now, I’m sure she’d love knowing that her book was finally shared with the world. I really miss our gifting each other journals on our birthdays. Both of us love collecting journals and a variety of pens.

I’ve been journaling off and on now for about 41 years. My journals are definitely filled with the emotional side of me, my faith and the experiences that I’ve had (good, bad and indifferent). They are filled with things I want to remember like the birth of my beautiful children. And they are also filled with some things I don’t want to remember like losing my 4th son’s twin, loss of our first home, injustices and other hardships. Journaling is very therapeutic for me on so many levels. In moments when I’d questioned if The Most High was near, I’ve always found a journal entry that showed an answered prayer. (Yup, He was near.)

I recently moved from Philly to GA. During the packing process I had to decide what was going with me and what was being tossed. I had tons and tons of writings, school papers and artwork of my children, books, Bibles, etc. This move was really challenging me and forcing me to let go of a lot of things that I had been holding onto for years! My children jokingly called me a ‘sentimental hoarder’. That hit me like a ton of bricks! I even tried to rationalize it. But it was true…I’m a sentimental hoarder! (Good, bad and indifferent)

In these moments of quietness that I now have an abundance of, I am re-evaluating a lot of things. One of them being all these journals that I have carried with me through several states, most of which unbeknownst to many, are filled with trauma, pain, hurt and abuse. I’ve recently begun to question why I’ve held on to them for so long? Is it that I’d hoped some day after I died my children would understand what made me the woman I am today? Is it that I wanted my husband to see how devoted I was to him in spite of our marital difficulties? Or is it because I wanted them to see how many times The Most High had given me victory over my circumstances? I’d like to think it is the latter.

In reality, I don’t need a journal to remind me of The Most High’s goodness to me. I’m alive today because of His goodness! I don’t need a journal to remind me of the pain that I continue to feel in my heart. It’s time to forgive, let go and move on! And I don’t need a journal to remind people of how they treated me. They know what they did and at the appointed time, well, my Father will handle it.

I don’t know how long it’s going to take but my goal is to read through these journals one more time and then throw them away. Yup, that’s right…in the trash they will go. Perhaps, I’ll get a fire pit and burn them to ashes.

“Forget the former things; do not dwell on the past. See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it? I am making a way in the wilderness and streams in the wasteland.” Isaiah 43:18-19

#thisismybravespace