Losing my Journal
...losing a piece of me.
I had a journal.
It was an old, beat-up thing. Black faux-leather cover, with a funny take on the “Keep Calm and Carry On” meme. The front said “Keep Calm and Write On” with a pencil on top instead of the famous crown.
I started writing in that journal back in March of 2020. I thought I would document my COVID experiences. That lasted until May. The few paragraphs I wrote were full of the strangeness of the world shutting down. I was one of the lucky ones who could work from home. My entries were mainly about how lonely it was for a single person, when everything was shut down.
I didn’t write every single day - I’d pick it up, write for a few days, maybe do prayer journal type work. Then I’d stop for a few days, a few weeks, months, sometimes even years. I think at one point I had a two-year gap between entries.
I didn’t start journaling each day seriously until this year. I got into “morning pages” - the writerly practice of writing something, anything, in the morning, up to three pages, just to get the creative juices flowing. That too wasn’t every day - but it was more than not.
I got so into it that I felt guilty when I didn’t do morning pages.
The cover was so old and worn it shed black flakes every time I opened it to write within. (It wasn’t just six years old; a dear friend gave it to me one Christmas or birthday, and I held onto it for a while.) Here’s what it looked like:
I took that picture only to show my Dad and friends the before and after of my recovering project. I did this just to keep the black flakes away from my hands, my clothes, my couch .
I used a beautiful wrapping paper I bought for my niece’s bridal shower. Had enough to make a cover like the ones we did with textbooks back in middle school. Remember doing that?
I kept that journal for weeks, writing prayers, prayer requests, story ideas - anything I wanted to remember. I’d use it to for affirmations. I’m still practicing the techniques that Magdelena Ponurska wrote about at her Substack, Courage to Create:
I’m not sure that image will link, so I’m putting another link to the article below:
I had recently started to use that journal REGULARLY. A lot. So many story plans, prayers and notes. I’d also use it as a commonplace book - the kind that people kept long ago as a way to store quotes, thoughts and anything else that struck their fancy.
I used it so much I took it with me to Toastmasters a couple of weeks ago, in case I had to take notes. I couldn’t find any other notebook around, so I took the journal.
And that, I’m afraid, is where I lost it.
I was going through a phase of not wanting to do morning pages. I let those slip for a couple of days. Then, when I searched for it - it was missing.
I’ve turned some rooms upside down looking for it. (And given them a much-needed cleaning.) I went back to the restaurant where our Toastmasters club meets. I sent out an email to everyone, asking them to look for it.
So far, no luck.
Now that it is gone it hurts more than I ever imagined. That stupid journal which plagued me from time to time. Sometimes I resented the discipline of morning pages and I’d try to avoid even looking at my journal. Thinking about it make me guilty so I’d deliberately not think about it.
But now that it is gone I want it back. I want that messed up journal, with the entries skipping years, and the odd recollections from the COVID times. I want to go back over those all prayer request and prayers.
For the past two weeks I’ve been mourning the loss, I fretted because I didn’t think it had my name in it, in case anyone found it. But look what I found when I searched my phone for the pictures of my wrapper project:
I did put my name in there! Now, I’m hoping against hope - just the tiniest bit of hope - that someone will find it and know where to return it. Maybe. Just maybe.
I’ve started writing again in another journal. Right away I put my name and phone number in it. I’m not losing this one!