I have kept a journal most of my life, though not very well. I have journals from when I was an angsty teen and I enjoy reading the bad poetry to my husband. I have stupid journals from my screenwriting phase, and the one where I tried out watercolors is ghastly.

I am at a crossroads with this current journal. I am about to finish it, and I have had it through the hardest time in my life. Very dark, very honest, and just…I don’t know. I went through therapy with this journal, and I went through getting sober with this journal. It’s been my shoulder, friend, and sponsor.

When I write in it now I take pains to not look back through it, because it makes me sad to look back two years ago. I am trying to decide what to do with it. It’s the first one in my life that I would have a problem with just anyone reading, and I honestly don’t know if I want it to ever be read. Still, I am having a hard time parting with it. I keep thinking I might want to go back someday…maybe when I write my memoirs or want to share my journey.

Did you ever have anything like this? What did you decide, and why? I’ve got my new journal coming today, and while I don’t need to make the decision today I do need to start thinking about what I am going to do. Gosh, I am making this sound like a huge deal when it really shouldn’t be, but it feels big, kwim?

Maybe a locked firebox in the top of a closet?

Keep it somewhere that you can get to it, but it’s not right in front of you. I’ve got a few of those, but sometimes it’s good to see how far you have come…

Both my hubby and I keep journals, if you don’t want to read this one that’s fine. But you might feel differnt one day and if you destroy it you could end up regretting it.

My advice is stick it at the back of your underwear drawer and forget about it.

Yarnmommy… I have sent you a PM