Re-reading my old journal.

Hello All,

Recently I have been learning about letting go of items that don't serve me any longer.  It was easy for the most part to let go of items.  However, when I came to my journals I paused.  What to do with these.  My heart, soul, tears and joy are in the journals.  How do I decide whether to let go of them or not.  I received some advice to re read them and then decide.  Does it still bring me joy?  Did it help me heal or finally put to rest some issues?  Is there still work to be done that it may need to be referred to again? 

I decided to do just that with a journal that I had kept for 10 years.  It took me from 2005 to just after Billy died in 2015.  I read it over a few weeks.  Here's what I found-- and how I came to tossing (more like gently placing) my journal in the trash. 

I found that I struggled.  I wanted to run the show and have total control over every aspect of my life.  I was angry-- much of the journal used to vent frustrations on how life/people wasn't doing what I wanted it to. 

I found that I really did do the best we could when it came to caring for Eric's mother.  My mind and memories had contorted to a story I was telling myself that wasn't true.  We did do everything we could to get her the care she needed.  Did we always do it with a smile? No, but were we any where close to being the mean hearted people that I was telling myself? Absolutely not. 

I found the grief in losing George, Helen, Ivan, DiDi, Muzzy, Harry and Billy.

I found the joy of finding Momma & her kittens, and later, Toby and Xander.

I found the pride of being Ashton's mom and of finding homes for Momma's babies.

I found the excitement of keeping Harry and Lita.

I found the hard work of keeping a marriage going.

I found the sadness of seeing Jared again and reliving the guilt of letting Matt adopt him.  I also found that we did try to see him again - but emails went unanswered.  We gave up way too easy- but at least it wasn't the high and dry that I was telling myself. 

I found the beginning of the depths of anxiety and panic I had never experienced before- thinking I wouldn't survive it. 

10 years -- and when I had read my last words, I felt good.  I felt healed.  I felt complete.  I could move on. 

So, I took a picture of it-- felt the smoothness of the cover one last time and put it in the trash. 

Until Next Time.