Dear diary… back in August 2016, I wrote that those are words I will never write. Not in a book that serves as a diary, that is. I am just not the diary-keeping-type.
Or maybe I am?
Maybe this is my diary?
Where this blog started out as a place to share my sexy stories — first fiction, then real life — over the past years I have also written about feelings. About tears, and stress, and worries.
From memory, I think my first post where I really opened up about hardships, was the one written in a hotel in Camden. Master T was already asleep on the bed, while I sat at the desk, hammering away on my laptop,mtears streaming down my face.
I wrote many more personal posts after that, posts that had nothing to do with sex at all. I wrote about my mental health, about the hardships with my son, and about Master T’s health. Only recently I opened up a bit more about what we are currently dealing with.
I guess by the time I decided to ‘rebrand’ this space from sex to lifestyle blog, it changed to a kind of diary too.
Memories of past years
If you are on Facebook, you’ll know about the memories you see of past years. Some people are irritated by it — like Master T — but I love them.
The same with storing photos on Google or in OneDrive. Those have the same kind of sharing as Facebook does, showing pictures made on the same day in the past years. I love looking back on those, and being reminded of good times.
On the day mom passed away in 2017, I made quite a number of photos of her, also in her coffin. After her funeral I took a lot of photos of her grave. Of the flowers. Of the big tree next to the grave. And months later, of her grave stone. There was a time when seeing those photos made me cry, but now sometimes they make me smile when happier memories slip into my mind.
Where this blog can serve as a diary of sorts, so can the memories shared by Facebook and those apps on my phone.
Where I’m not one to keep a traditional diary, writing about things that occupy my mind definitely is. Sometimes I turn things over and over in my mind before I’m able to write about it, but it seems to make it to my blog in some way. At times only a mention, and other times a full post.
When the hardships of the past months — my son’s mental, and Master T’s physical health — started taking its toll on me, I started another blog. I wrote a couple of posts there, some filled with anger, some with sadness, and yet others with information. I needed that space, but I don’t anymore, because I came to the point where I found my voice back, and prefer to write over here, or on Medium.
I will never be a traditional-diary-person, and will never write those words ‘dear diary’ to start a piece, but I will probably always be a writer, and my feelings will always spill over in my words.
© Rebel’s Notes
Image from Pixabay