In middle school, my best friend and I had a composition book we used to pass back and forth. I still don't know to this day what made us start it but it was sooooooo much fun. We had almost every class together and saw each other at cheerleading practice then hung out outside of school. Somehow we always had something new to say. One would patiently wait and check the locker in anticipation of the most recent book drop off to respond or add our little tidbit.
The content of this book ranged from venting about a teacher we thought was insane, drooling over a cute boy, and my personal favorite; creating code names for people that were only funny to us. We'd see the person in the hallway, glance at each other and laugh hysterically. All in good fun though, we never bashed anyone just giggled. I'm more than confident this among many other silly pre-teen quirks was the reason why people thought we were so odd. Ha, the odd couple.
When we went to high school and the class options changed, we didn't have the exact same classes anymore so we didn't spend as much time together like we thought we would the years before. Our interests and class schedules guided us elsewhere. Not apart per say, but we were developing our own flair for life.
We started off both running track but then she was bit by the ROTC bug, flipping rifles, doing push-ups and other Xena Warrior Princess activity. I stuck with track and next thing we knew we both had found our "thing". Our first real thing outside of each other. A little scary but realistic. We were growing up.
In spite of the clash of our hectic schedules we always managed to find a way to meet outside of someone's class or lunch to pass our composition book to each other. We didn't share lockers anymore so we couldn't dare afford to leave the book in our locker and the person we share lockers with see our inner-most inside jokes. SECURITY BREACH!
As the years passed, we found moments to swap the book. We went through quite a few. Only the Lord knows where all of them are now.
Once we went to college she and I stopped exchanging books. She was in College Park, I was in Fairfax and it was almost impossible to swap. No common meeting places for drop off. After that I decided to pick up my individual journal again. I had one in middle school in conjunction with our friend book but this one was for separate self-expression. It was a journal with poems, drawings, and clippings tied to memories.
I went through tons of journals. There are two that I will bury in specific spots like a time capsule only to be found by my children. I think it will be cool for them to see that their mom was human too and that more than likely everything they have felt, I have felt. Most of the books I burned so they couldn't be found because I said some pretty wild stuff, and there is one that I found a while back at my mother's house. Good thing I retrieved it. If Mama would've seen that one, she might have caught me up on some beat downs that were passed due. LOL. Just the typical teenage rage.
I read this journal before I got rid of this one. It was cool to see the changes I’ve made in life and the things I’ve overcome were a good reminder that God kept me then and He will continue to even now. Trivial things and people that seemed to weigh so heavily years ago only made me laugh when reflecting. It showed me that years, months, and even days from now a lot of the things we stress about won’t even matter. Things that seemed too hard and so impossible to overcome at that time were now only a memory to be read in a journal.
I've also been really quiet in terms of expressing how I feel about certain things to avoid being the hormonal pregnant lady. Sometimes when pregnant, people are so quick to just chalk your concerns and gripes up as chemical imbalance when really at least 70% of these confessions are valid. But in fear of being seen as irrational, emotional, or just plain mean I've kept a lot to myself. In addition to that, I HATE when venting with select people and I'm patronized. I don't always want a pat on the back and I definitely don't want to be pacified. The baby will have enough of them should I choose to partake.
Holding on to emotion and then dumping it somewhere later on used to be a sure bet back in the day. Emotional littering; where I never got caught and fined. I always got away with it until my little passenger started riding with me. In pregnancy there is always someone who is with me (or in me I should say) that is directly affected by my moods whether I admit them out loud or not. Everything I think, feel, and eat...she knows and by way of me, she takes in. That in itself was extremely eye-opening to me, major reality check. Food for thought I called it. Hence, why this journal will bear the namesake.
In effort to finish out this last two months as stress-free as the previous months, I will write down my thoughts. I've been looking for new, cool ways to stay positive and encouraged. You know, put a fresh spin on life. My first entry starts today. I'll let you know how it goes.
Love,
Cam
