In a move my Hubby shook his head at and seemed truly puzzled over, I spent about an hour yesterday, ripping pages out of my old journals, and running them through the shredder. Foolish, perhaps, as I have no plans to take part in politics, and I don’t have a particularly sordid past. Maybe “pointless” would be a better word for what I did.
I don’t know.
The journals, which were from my senior year of high school until the year Hubby and I started dating, had been placed in our garage attic – and had been there pretty much since we moved into this house. I hadn’t seen them in years. A pretty avid journaler back in the day, there were five journals in that box…
And I shredded all but one of them.
Something about opening those pages and seeing my words on a page just made me want to make those words gone. Maybe because I’m now thirty and oh-so-much older and wiser. Maybe it’s because there’s no looking back. As I ripped out the pages, I skimmed over some entries and was amazed at the things that felt so heart breaking at the time, wounds I thought I’d never heal from, joy I thought I would revel in forever – and I had truly forgotten about them. And, yet, maybe that is why I shouldn’t have destroyed those moments – as a reminder that even what feels truly horrible when you are in the depths of it will pass. Life goes on. Those big moments fade until they became small moments, and then sometimes non-moments in your memory.
I do believe that all the moments and all the journeys in my life led me to where I am today, and so my actions yesterday were not to erase what has already happened. I felt a little sad, maybe, that I had been so hurt by things – trivial things – like bickering with friends, boy drama, backstabbing, growing up – things that ultimately, occupied just a few pages in time, versus my life today. I had no idea where I was going. I had no idea I had such amazing things ahead of me. No idea that I was going to be blessed with a great husband and two fantastic daughters. All that time I spent dwelling over so-and-so not calling, or how my friendships drifted when I went away to college… and I wish I could go back and say to myself, “It’s all a part of the journey… ride it out…Put the pen down, and just BE.”
I did keep one journal. The journal from about the time when Hubby and I started dating. Not because that is “where life begins”, mind you, but because someday, I’m afraid I won’t remember some of the courting and smooshy love stuff from our early days, and I’ll want to be reminded. Even as I skimmed yesterday, I found this entry:
The other day I was stressing because I haven’t found a subleaser for my apartment yet, and he said, “It’ll all work out. You know how I know? Because you’re supposed to be here with me.”
And that’s exactly it – I’m where I’m supposed to be. And though the stuff in my life before this, it all made me the person I am, the person Hubby fell in love with… it just doesn’t matter so much to me. I don’t want to read those pages anymore and think about that stuff.
Those pages are gone now, and I’m not a 16-year-old anymore…
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