No matter what the day brings, deep down I know it really is a good day because I have the man of my dreams, a kitty who loves me, a roof over my head and I live in paradise.

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"You must be unintimidated by your own thoughts." - Nikki Giovanni

I can be intimidated by my thoughts. I remember when Aunt L or some other family member gave me my first locked diary. Oh, I felt very special. I loved to write even back then.

After having written a few pages, my mother said to me, "Don't write down anything you wouldn't want God or anyone else to read." Right there I knew she had somehow gotten into my diary.

My mother and I never got along except when I was willing to dance her dance. Most of the time we were usually fighting about my Dad or any of my actions or words that irritated her.

I believe I may have written down about how she irritated me and she didn't like it.

After that I never wrote in a diary again. I held everything inside. For me, this comes from having lived in an alcoholic home. We had to keep our secrets, secret. Plus, I had no desire to be punished because I wrote what was the truth to me.

Until I came into Al-Anon, I kept everything inside. I never let anyone know how I felt. My usual response when asked how I was, "I'm fine." No more and no less.

Only I was not fine. I was tied up in knots. I was so worried about someone finding me out and that I was not fine. I was not perfect. My being okay hinged on what other people thought.

I never wrote down my thoughts again except maybe in a letter but still kept my inner most secrets to myself.

Later in life, during my second marriage, I was gifted with a hard cover journal. I thought why not? I had been keeping thoughts in my daily date book. I wish now I had not destroyed them. Another action to please that husband. Anyway, I began writing again. Not long after, I learned my husband had been reading my journal. I was devastated.

Once more I went into emotional hibernation. If I did write, it was only the superfluous events of my life and nothing of seriousness.

Sometime in 1992, I began again. I was by myself and no one to delve into my private thoughts. It was freeing to be able to write down what I was thinking and feeling. No matter how trivial to importance, I wrote it all.

Being able to write this was freeing. It is kind of like my morning pages. Morning pages had not come into being at this time. Now 20 years later I have boxes upon boxes of journals. I have fancy journals, composition journals, artist's hard cover journals, and one year I wrote my journal on the computer and put in graphics. That year's journal took two four inch binders.

To this day, I still draw or paste pictures in my journals. I will try to write a piece about the picture or just enjoy the photo.

I am one lucky woman because Michael does not get into my journals. He has no desire to read them and respects my privacy with them.


Today is overcast and the temperature is lower than it has been in the last few days. The birds are busy and singing away. Bailey is sleeping in Michael's chair.

I cannot believe it is taking me so long to finish my book "Charade." Normally, I have a book done within a week. Ah, the Internet has entered my life.

We are entertaining a friend from Hawaii. It feels very strange to have someone else in the apartment.

I am going to end now so I can get on with my day.

mz. em
Currently reading:
-- "Charade" - Sandra Brown
-- "The Daily Book of Art/356 readings that teach, inspire & entertain" - day 19

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