Oh yes, this captured how I felt so well. I remember walking home at night, seeing the light on in my room; then rushing to my diary hiding place, finding it subtly disturbed. I hated my mother for reading my most private thoughts; but looking back, I know she would have been frightened by her youngest child becoming someone suddenly different and unknowable, who drifted in and out of the house without leaving an imprint, who had stopped communicating, had moved out of reach - and therefore, out of her protection.
I’ve been that young person (my mother read my journal and punished me for what she read) Later that mother. I held my sons journal after finding it tucked under a pillow when changing the linen. I was tempted but I remembered it was his secret sacred place. Somehow I feel like he knows I never read it and that that made a difference.
Wow, that must have taken some strength not to read it. But it sounds like you learned from your own. Crazy that they punished you for something that was supposed to be all your own.
This reminds me of every time I ask my boyfriend to read my work and then immediately regret it, hoping he never does.
I’ll write about that one day.
This is a poignant piece Clancy. You’ve touched on something that anyone brave enough to write anything down has gone through at least once (or twice).
I used to keep my journal in my backpack because my mom would read it if I left it home. But I wrote anyway, even if it wasn’t safe. I had to. This brought so many memories back. Thank you ☺️
My favourite line: "the need to press ourselves through ink and charcoal into paper, to figure out who we are, to talk to ourselves as the protagonists of our own story, to make our goals untouchable scriptures for eternal reference."
Disappointingly, I never kept a diary as a kid. I wish I had. I've barely kept one as an adult. I changed that at the start of this year, where I've been writing morning notes every day. It's been an amazing thing (a personal thing that I probably wouldn't even want my wife reading, not that there's anything bad but just that sense that this is my own inner world on the page), but I'm left wishing and questioning why I've left it until I'm 40!
Thanks for reading, Nathan! I don't keep a journal or diary so much as jot notes of ephemeral thoughts before they get away. The morning must be a great time to catch those, I'll have to try that as well!
Oh yes, this captured how I felt so well. I remember walking home at night, seeing the light on in my room; then rushing to my diary hiding place, finding it subtly disturbed. I hated my mother for reading my most private thoughts; but looking back, I know she would have been frightened by her youngest child becoming someone suddenly different and unknowable, who drifted in and out of the house without leaving an imprint, who had stopped communicating, had moved out of reach - and therefore, out of her protection.
I think your experience perfectly captured what I was trying to say here Belinda, thanks for reading.
I’ve been that young person (my mother read my journal and punished me for what she read) Later that mother. I held my sons journal after finding it tucked under a pillow when changing the linen. I was tempted but I remembered it was his secret sacred place. Somehow I feel like he knows I never read it and that that made a difference.
Wow, that must have taken some strength not to read it. But it sounds like you learned from your own. Crazy that they punished you for something that was supposed to be all your own.
Thank you for reading!
This reminds me of every time I ask my boyfriend to read my work and then immediately regret it, hoping he never does.
I’ll write about that one day.
This is a poignant piece Clancy. You’ve touched on something that anyone brave enough to write anything down has gone through at least once (or twice).
Thanks for checking it out Sudana. You’re right, I think it’s something we all have in common.
I used to keep my journal in my backpack because my mom would read it if I left it home. But I wrote anyway, even if it wasn’t safe. I had to. This brought so many memories back. Thank you ☺️
Good memories, or at least instructional ones, I hope. Thanks for reading!
Beautiful, your writings brings out something in me. I’m going to express this in my artwork. Thank you.
Beautiful, really enjoyed the read.
My favourite line: "the need to press ourselves through ink and charcoal into paper, to figure out who we are, to talk to ourselves as the protagonists of our own story, to make our goals untouchable scriptures for eternal reference."
Disappointingly, I never kept a diary as a kid. I wish I had. I've barely kept one as an adult. I changed that at the start of this year, where I've been writing morning notes every day. It's been an amazing thing (a personal thing that I probably wouldn't even want my wife reading, not that there's anything bad but just that sense that this is my own inner world on the page), but I'm left wishing and questioning why I've left it until I'm 40!
Thanks for reading, Nathan! I don't keep a journal or diary so much as jot notes of ephemeral thoughts before they get away. The morning must be a great time to catch those, I'll have to try that as well!
Jotting notes is a wise plan.
Morning notes have been so good. Helps to get the creative thoughts going, if nothing else.
This is so beautiful ❤️
Thank you for reading, Ranjini.