Wednesday, March 25, 2015

Excerpt: Untitled

I'm currently out on a work trip across the country and in the process of writing a new post. 

Below, is a super rough draft of what I've been working on.  The completed post will be up in the next two weeks. 


I lost my last journal.  It was extremely personal. In it, I wrote about beliefs that I've allowed to limit me, innermost fears, and past experiences that I still feel guilt and shame about to this day.  I was writing in it on a flight home and thought that I packed it in my bag upon descent, but that wasn't the case.

After I lost it, I went through a nearly month long period of grieving.  I simply could not function properly.  I was in such a funky mood that I just couldn't bring myself to write another word.

How could I have been so careless?  Why wouldn't I check to make sure that my journal was in my bag before I deplaned?

Then the thought of someone reading all about me: stuff that I've held onto for a lifetime, stuff I've told to very few people, stuff that I've thought, but haven't said, just killed me.  I wasn't ready for that, but what choice did I have? 

Not sure whether someone read it and shared my brand of crazy with others.  Maybe they all had a good laugh at my expense.   Cackled at my exposed feelings, judged my not so finest hours as harshly as  I have.  Or maybe, there was something on those pages that spoke to them... 

Let me know what you think so far!  The completed piece will be up the Wednesday after next.  Have a great day!

Photo credit lurve: Photo by Jimileek


  1. Very good so far. I can't imagine losing my journal and the unknown of who read my thoughts and craziness. Such an anxiety producing occurrence!

  2. I would be devastated. I had journals from the time I was 10 years old. Due to my epilepsy as a child and subsequent episodes as an adult, my memory is spotty at best. I wrote everything in my journals - everything. An ex-boyfriend found them and just happened upon some entries about my ex-husband and my former boyfriends and he destroyed them. All of them. Those journals had memories of my mother, my grandparents - both passed on - memories that I would read whenever I was missing them or needed a bit of motherly advice. To this day I have not forgiven him for that. I most likely never will be able to.

    1. My heart goes out to you, Kim! I hope that one day you'll be able to forgive him, not because he deserves it, but because it would be freeing for you and you deserve that. Peace and blessings!