I love words. I have always loved words.
The power they wield. The way they roll off your tongue or flow from the tip of a really great pen.
So, it’s not shocking that one of my greatest delights as a child was (and still is, to be honest) getting a new journal. Preferably one with the little lock and key. With Strawberry Shortcake or Holly Hobbie on the front? Even better.
Of course, as I made that super easy (😏) transition to middle school, I needed that place for my thoughts more than ever.
But I was far too mature to call it a “diary.” My ramblings and preteen angst were now housed in a much more grown up journal. The 4-color pen with pink, purple, green, and teal inks was apparently sufficiently grown up enough to keep using. 🤷♀️
So, what I’m pondering today is that, if I had kept up with journaling so frequently, maybe I wouldn’t run to sugar as much. Maybe that outlet was what kept me at a “socially acceptable” weight through high school and college.
I had a healthy coping mechanism and the busyness of life - a job, marriage, children - left less free time to sit down with my journal the way I had for so many years.
(Disclaimer: I am NOT blaming my current situation on anything or anyone other than me!)
Maybe it’s time to get back into the habit of regular journaling again. Does anyone know where I can find a four-colored pen?? 😉
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