Tuesday, April 25, 2006


Memory... is the diary that we all carry about with us. Oscar Wilde

People often say that this or that person has not yet found himself. But the self is not something one finds, it is something one creates. ~Thomas Szasz

I write to preserve the memories that I may not reflect on later. I also write because it is an outlet for me. I have kept a diary off and on throughout my life. I would write every day for long periods,thoughts just poured out. Then something happened. I could not take my pen and write one word. I would stop for years! Some years only had two or three entries. This year has been rather sporadic. I will write every day for a week. I will grab my journal to make an entry and find a month has passed. Maybe this blog will keep me more on task. I find it difficult to write when my family is all home and buzzing about. My journals have been my private thoughts for me and were not meant to be read by others. I thought very hard about this. When I look around me I notice people have someone in their life they share there joy, problems and pain with. I have no trouble sharing my joy. It is the negative side wherein my troubles dwell. Others feel comfortable sharing their despair. I am a listener. I have been that person people share problems and pain with. I have been reluctant to share the negative part of my life with others. I believe this is why I wrote it down. Just putting down my thoughts or problems on paper was my relief. I am not sure when this started. I kept a diary as a child and journals as I grew older. The core of the dilemma was my inability to burden others. At the worst points in my life I talked to God. I would find and read the passages I needed to find my way back. I found peace in the words and works of God.


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