Tiny traumas in the five-year journal
I have a journal that has five lines per day for every day of the year for five years.
It's a nice one. I spent a little bit of cash on it so I would feel some sort of incentive to write in it daily. For the most part, I've actually kept up with it. I keep it at my nightstand or on my desk, and at the end of every day, I write a quick little sentence or two about what I did that day.
Now, however, I'm having a harder time cracking it open each day.
Mmm yummy data
As someone with infamously terrible executive function and self discipline, the fact that I kept up with it for so long was unexpected. That win alone is something I celebrate and is proof to me that I am capable of keeping up with an itty bitty routine.
I'm a data person. I love being able to crunch the numbers behind something, especially when it has to do with me. I used to use an app like Bearable for my self data, but I fell out of it eventually for one reason or another. I tend to make these kinds of things more complex than they need to be (i.e. tracking too many variables, making it too labor intensive to be easy, getting strict about how I gather the info, etc.), but the benefit of the five-year journal is that I can't make it harder than it is. Each day has five lines — there is no room to write too much.
The journal gives me qualitative data, not necessarily something I can plot in a spreadsheet, but it's data nonetheless.
When I first bought the journal, I liked the idea of being able to see what I was up to on any given day a year ago without having to search too hard. I can see little nuggets that seemed big at the time but aren't anymore, like random instances of workplace tension, deciding to try something new, or getting kissed by one of my friends (which was weird!).
Reflecting on the past is all fun and games until...
I'm generally a pretty happy person. I struggle with depression, but aside from the stress I put on myself, it oftentimes feels illogical. I am well off, I have family and friends, I have hobbies and unique skills. But we all know that depression doesn't discriminate.
What I didn't account for with my journal was how I might handle reminiscing on the harder times. It's fun to remember that day I went to the farmer's market with a friend last year, but what is less fun is losing a job.
I droned on about it in a previous blog post, so you can read more on that if you'd like.
TL;DR: Getting fired from that job triggered a several-month-long feeling of shame, dread and worthlessness. My entire life up to that point had been defined by being exceptionally good at what I do and having a strong work ethic. Being handed termination paperwork was a direct contradiction of what I thought I knew about myself.
Even a year later, that is the worst thing that has happened to me in my life. That goes to show how fortunate I am and how much luck I have been granted in this life.
How do I face old shame?
The pain has faded, and I am doing well now. I've mostly forgiven myself, due almost entirely to how I bounced back. If I didn't have steady employment now, I do not think I would have been forgiven so soon.
I'm reaching the point in my five-year journal where I'm about to reach my one-year anniversary of losing that job. As the days inch closer, page-by-page, the shame wells up again.
I haven't been keeping up with my journal as much, and it makes me sad. I've kept up with it for so long, and feeling ashamed of a 365-day-old mistake is going to ruin that?
I've granted myself some concessions to make it easier to dive back in. When I previously missed a day, I'd go back and write a quick entry for it, but I no longer force myself to do that. If I miss a day, that's five extra lines I'll have to work with next year. Future-me problem.
For the last few days, I've gotten back in the swing of writing in my five-year journal every night. Hopefully I stick with it.
This isn't a resolved problem. I am caught between seeing the value of (1) reflecting on past mistakes, using that space to recognize my growth, or (2) letting those hard times lie under the bed until I'm ready to dust them off.
When I open my journal next week, I'll be confronted with last year's worst day. I've prepared myself for it. I've already flipped forward to it a few times in the last few weeks, as if it might look any different than the last time I laid eyes on it.
Those of you who have ever kept a long-term journal: How do you handle the pages that hurt to look at? Do you face the old shame head-on, or do you grant yourself the grace to look away?
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Let's talk! Shoot me a comment or start a conversation with me by emailing davstri4077@gmail.com.