What It's All About

I use to keep this notebook in my very early 20's.  And when I say "keep", I mean not only would I write in it, I would take it everywhere with me.  A free moment on the ferry: I would reflect.  Run across an inspirational quote or relevant comic?  Add it to the pages.  Frustrated with what it all means?  Jot it down and return to it in a few months.  The leather bounding was multicolored, with a warning inside the front cover.  "This leather will fade and change colors throughout the years" due to it's fine craftsmanship or something like that.  Perfect, I thought.  I will too.

The notebook came about at a very tumultuous time in my life.  I was madly in love with a boy (though I know know it wasn't like that at all) who I thought was madly in love with me too.  Except, he was both terrible at showing me towards the end nor able to break things off.  We went back and forth for months.  Holidays and birthdays would bring about a renewal, things would be just okay for awhile, and then it would start all over again.  I hated myself knowing I was the one keeping this charade going.  So I bought the notebook and began to write, really write for once in my newly acquired adult life.

A page use to exist towards the front of this notebook.  It has escaped me long ago what prompted the writing on that page, but it became a moment of lucidity addressed to my future self.  Because of the last few months, I knew the time would come again when I would cave.  The pain would follow.  So I wrote a message to myself filled with self-worthy praise, love, and hope.

I ripped it out later.

The evidence remained: it wasn't a clean rip.  A corner of tattered paper stayed behind, blank, but nonetheless loud and clear.  I remembered why I had placed the message and could see clearly I had fallen for the trap anyways.


It wasn't until I threw all of his mementos and love notes into the dumpster did I become free.  The writing was the fuel, a reminder to not forget to light the match.

Writing via blogging replaced the notebook slowly a few years ago.  Equate it to all the other times in my life when I started a new journal.  In some form, writing has stayed with me.  Never perfect, often grammatically awkward, trying to be honest, I write to stay grounded.  Sometimes, even unconsciously, the words appear months later and have new meaning as if it was message from a lucid moment or a torn corner.

I looked everywhere for that notebook today.  I can't find it.  It's here somewhere, most likely in a box unpacked, surrounded by my real love's letters and treasures.  The cover surely changed but so gradual I may not notice.

It should be on the bookshelf, but might not have a place right now.

Every year I would write about what it's like to be that age.  20, confused about the path to take, alone in a studio apartment in Seattle, walking across to grab take-out Mexican, I am hopeful about the future but not sure if I will be loved again.  23, trying to work out the kinks, this is real love--I get it now, how do I define myself on the other side of the country?  27, hand me down furniture, dog hair everywhere, our plates still in boxes, moving back is not as easy as I thought it would be.

30.

I thought a lot about what I am about the last few days. It began with confidence, followed by doubt, reflection, and total dialysis.

I am most aware in the car and the shower.  Times when recording my thoughts are difficult.

Sometimes I can be out of my mind with anger, intensity, and misguided passion.  And then I feel really guilty.

I am a quietly opinionated mix of liberal ideas and conservative intentions.

When I have an idea or plan, I become too focused on the details and outcome.

I try to give the benefit of the doubt.  I really do try.

I am passionate about my community, new ways of doing things, and pursuing more educational opportunities.  I think that sentence is very preachy and self-righteous.

Before I met my husband, I had a narrow view of how the world and families function.  Since him, I have a system of checks and balances.

I can be stubborn and crass.  But I am not stubborn nor crass.

I have made mistakes.  I make some people crazy.

I do not prolong suffering.

Nostalgia makes me both emotional and wary.

Expectations for others are high but highest for myself.

The core weaknesses have remained: music, cooking, gardening, photography, writing, exercise, gift giving, Labradors, forests, bodies of water, long drives, and rice krispy treats.

I am sarcastic but intending to show love.

This all feels too exposed but I make myself do it.

Often, I give too much and set myself up for disappointment.

I am a valued nurse, loving wife, devoted daughter, and awkward friend.  I would like to work on the last one but am hesitant to try.

I am changing.  I have changed.  I am well intentioned and constantly self-evaluating.

This abbreviated version is how I am at 30, so far.  Aware this is all determinant against the filters, perspectives, and experiences of those I encounter in the world.


I am not always what I was.  But, I am always, always, working on it.

I'll keep evolving.  I'll keep writing, knowing I may read the words differently down the road.  The good will always outweigh the bad, I believe.   The notebook will show up again in a place where I had already checked.  The bookshelves will fill.  We will buy more and unpack another box.  A mixture of mine, his, ours, the past, the future we haven't discovered yet.  I'll read the words of the 23 year old again and smile at how it all turned out, proud of myself for trying.   Someday, I'll reflect upon this post and gawk at what I didn't know.

I can't always put thoughts or feelings into the right words.  This blog serves the purpose to simply maintain focus, create perspective for myself, and preserve the reflections I would otherwise forget about.  It has exactly two readers, who will correct sentence structure, understand lines on the screen, and recognize the progress.  It is not a weapon, statement, or podium.

It is a message to myself to remember who you are.  Where you've been.  What you've seen.  What you've learned.  What you hope to discover.  Keep taking photos of the land you love.  Try new restaurants in every corner of the state.  Create lists and mock your attempts at completing them.  Review your years and see how far you've come.  Remember the lessons you gained in Pennsylvania.  Make mistakes. Fill your shelves and walls with a well-lived life.  Regret, then understand, then regret nothing.  Say your good-byes and look for opened arms. Hug trees.  Jump in lakes.  Don't jump in canals anymore, it's kinda dangerous.   Be honest.  Be open to it all

Keep writing. Jot it all down and see what happens.