When I was a young girl I would walk up and down the streets of town collecting bottles that were discarded on the side of the road. Cans were 5 cents and the big 2 liter bottles were 10 cents, so of course the goal was to find as many of those big bottles as possible. It was like finding gold treasure since most people didn't toss big bottles onto the side of the road. I would gather as many cans and bottles as I could find and then take all of them down to the local store to redeem them. It was always fun counting up those nickels and dimes, hoping against hope that I would collect enough to buy that little diary with a lock and maybe a piece of candy afterward.
I remember the excitement I felt once I finally collected enough to actually buy that diary. It was purple with the word "diary" written across the front in cursive. It had a little silver key that fit the lock to keep it private (little did I realize that all those keys were the same and one could open any lock) I remember running home with my new diary thinking of all the things I could put into it, stuff that no one needed to know about and Sissy would surely tease me about if I tried to talk to her about. Stuff like boys that I thought were cute and wished beyond measure that I could talk to or how I wished I could somehow get smart enough to get through algebra. I wanted to write about my feelings, I wanted to write about life, I wanted to just write. I wanted to write stories of my life the way V. C. Andrews could write. I dreamed all the way home.
Of course one day Sissy found my beautiful diary and, as I had suspected she would, she teased me about the things that were in there. She laughed at me and even worse, she told her best friend about the things I had written in there and the two of them laughed about it together. I guess I wasn't quite as good as V.C. Andrews and she was a typical big sister who had found her little sister's weakness.
Those days are long gone, and I journal here now on this blog. I sometimes still worry about what others might think of me or that they might laugh at what I have to say, so I filter more than I ever did in that tiny diary. I find no need to hide it under my mattress nor do I lock it up with a key. My words are here for anyone who might stumble upon them and all I can do is hope that for every one that laughs there is also one who might be helped by reading my words. Of course I also am trying to help myself as well, I write to feel better, to release the yucky stuff that's inside so that I can fill those places with happy thoughts, happy memories, happy feelings for others. It is my hope that week by week, post by post, I replace all that bad with good. If I do not release it, it stays inside me and lingers there in the dark places created by my youth. If I do release it, I can illuminate that dark spot with the joy and happiness that my new world creates. My small diary did that when I was young, my blog does it now. I feel as if, since I began blogging about my life, that I have become a better and happier person on the whole. Don't get me wrong, I still have my bad days, times where I don't even want to be around me and I feel sorry for those who have to live with me. That's called menopause and there's not much I can do about it until it's over. I work hard to overcome it, I apologize when I am being "evil", and I journal in my blog because blogging makes me feel better.
I wanted to post Thoughtful Thursday this past week, but for some reason I could not access the site to post. I kept trying all day Thursday and Friday, but alas the screen sat there doing nothing and then timed out. I was glad to get on today and share some thoughts. I hope everyone has a nice Memorial Day weekend and has some nice weather to go with it. Don't forget to Thank A Soldier, they are the reason you are here and free to have things like blogs and Facebook. If you don't know a soldier personally, just be thankful in your heart that there are those out there who are willing to fight for your rights, for your freedom, for you!