Wow, My First Blog!

Thirty some years ago, we called them “diaries”. I remember my first one.  It had a hard gold cover and a tiny lock on the side. The pages inside were trimmed in gold - kind of like the edges of an old Bible.  I kept the key on a string, safely tucked away in my ballerina jewelry box on my dresser (which was also kept under lock and key!) That diary contained the very deepest and most private thoughts a 13 year old girl could have.  I’d sit in my bedroom closet with the door closed, with nothing but a flashlight and a thousand thoughts pouring out of my soul onto the golden-tipped pages of my diary.  It was childhood therapy like Dr. Spock never knew. Some days, I’d come out of the closet after hours of writing and feel drained and empty, yet full of hopes and dreams.  A kind of self-induced therapy at such a young age - maybe even an instinctive need to unburden my young soul of those things still yet to be understood. My diary was my best friend - always there, eager to listen - never judging - always accepting my words at face value.  It was also a treasure box of sorts - I’d tape or glue special mementos to its pages - a 4 leaf clover, a movie ticket stub or a special photo.  And like a true friend, that diary stayed with me throughout the innocence of youth and into the troublesome teenage years.  My diary entries then became more intense and the pages became tear stained, instead of adorned with childhood trinkets.  The last few pages held the most traumatic and intense moments of my life at that time and it was then I knew my diary had fulfilled its obligation to my soul. It was time to close it up and lock those personal moments away. For years that diary would stay hidden in the bottom of a box, way up on the top shelf of the very closet I sat in so many days and wrote in it. And then, like an unexpected visit from an old flame, I came across it one day. Its pages called out to me like screeching hawk. I was mesmerized and gripped by its power.  The tiny lock was rusted and all my childhood secrets were right there - waiting to spill out of the golden locked box that had kept them hidden for so many years.  As I read those diary entries, I was  swept back into time, like the raging rivers of a flood. Memories exploded in my mind like fireworks and I was back in childhood therapy all over again.  I found myself laughing and crying, unable to control either, as I continued to read the precarious words of a young teenage girl.  The 4 leaf clover and the movie ticket were still intact - although faded and dried out.  As I neared the end of my diary journey, I wanted somehow to return to those days and relive those memories - good or bad - I didn’t care - I just wanted to GO BACK.  Thats when I realized how powerful journaling was and how I had been gifted with the ability to put my thoughts down in such a way that perserved that power over time.  And now, through the technology of computers, I am able once again able to enter into that innocent, yet powerful world of childhood therapy, now known as “blogging”. My lock and key will be replaced by a password, and my trinkets replaced with digital pictures.  But regardless of the method used, the therapy remains as powerful and as healing now as it was over 30 years ago.

Here’s to Happy and Healthy Blogging!