Write it Down...

I went to my parent's again last night and the few of us that were there had a very interesting conversation. My brother-in-law has been reading a book called "John Adams" by David McCullough and last night he read part of the book where John Adams is writing to his son John Quincy and urging him and his two sons to keep a diary. I don't remember the exact quote, but it was something to the effect that if you don't write about your travels and experiences in life now then when you die it will be as if you never existed.

This started us in on a conversation about journal writing. My brother-in-law commented that he has left no record of his life, so far, and that when he dies he will have nothing to leave behind to prove that he even lived. I made a joke that I would write in my journal that he does, in fact, exist.

Not many in my family are consistent at keeping a journal. Therefore I cannot share their experiences of doing so. But I do have a story of my own that I thought I'd share.

One day in 1994 I was sitting in Brother Wilkinson's seminary class. We were having a lesson on journal writing. Bro. Wilkey (as we called him) basically told us about the importance of keeping a journal and he shared scriptures and quotes from prophets explaining why we should keep a written record of our life. I received a journal from my parents when I turned 8 and up to the time I turned 16 I had written a few brief words in my journal. Things such as "I hate so-and-so" or "we went to Disneyland and these are the rides I rode". And I believe I even poked myself with a pin once and actually smeared the blood across one of the pages of my journal. But this particular day as I was sitting in class I was struck by this lesson. At the end of the lesson my teacher challenged us to write in a journal every day for one month. He told us that it takes 21 days to make a habit and if we could stay with it for one month it would be easier for us to keep writing. I was up for the challenge so I tried it. Fourteen years and 34 journals later, I am still at it. That simple challenge has since become a nightly ritual. I don't think my 11th grade seminary teacher would have ever expected that. If I knew where to find him now, I'd write him a letter and thank him for that lesson.

I don't share this to boast over the fact that I have written every night, but to hopefully give some insight into what I have learned from the experience. I used to wonder if anyone is even going to want to read all these journals I keep filling up. There are so many of them, and often times I think that what I write will be of little importance to anyone. Because I write every night, a lot of my entries are basically outlines of what I did that day: "Went to work, did the usual, went home, ate dinner, read a book, went to bed".

It's boring and monotonous. Nobody really cares. At least I didn't think so. But then I began to wonder if maybe my grandkids or great-grandkids will like knowing that I hate salmon and last time I ate it I was trying so hard not to gag that I literally had tears coming out the corners of my eyes. When my dad finally noticed he said something like "Good grief. If you don't like it, don't eat it!" And maybe they'll find it hilarious that I was 25 years old when that happened. Maybe my grandkids will like knowing that I love to read. And maybe they'll like knowing about the 30 billion boys I've had crushes on; how I think $4.00 for gas is completely unacceptable; and how I think Hillary Clinton is a joke. And maybe they will also like to know how much I love my family and how much I appreciate my friends. All this may seem inconsequential to me, but it may be a wealth of knowledge to them.

I've also learned that writing in my journal isn't only for my posterity. I write for myself. I go back to my journals every few months and read them. It's amazing to see how much I have learned and grown from experiences I've had. It's fun to read about the funny moments and the sad moments; the moments of anger and frustration and moments of utter joy. It's fun to have all of this written down so I can remember. It's absolutely priceless.

Writing has also been a great form of therapy for me. I've never been one to completely open up and share my feelings with others, but I have a tendency to write them all down. Putting them on paper instead of keeping them bottled up inside is a great way for me to release those emotions and then move on with my life. Nothing stays inside me for very long.

I have absolutely loved writing in a journal. I still do it the old fashioned way, handwritten, rather than typed. Having a handwritten journal is more personal to me, and I think it also tells so much more about someone's personality than reading typed pages. And it's harder to make corrections. Once it's written down, there's no erasing it and making changes. Handwritten entries capture the true essence of what I am feeling, the moment I am feeling it.

As I continue to get older and fill more journals, I may need an entire room to store them all. But I wouldn't have it any other way. I hope I can instill in my own children the importance of keeping a journal. And I hope I can inspire all of you to start writing, if you don't already do so. It only takes 21 days to make a habit. Make this habit count for something. Give your posterity something that proves you really do exist. Allow them to get to know you. It doesn't have to take a lot of time. Sometimes I only write a paragraph and other times I write a couple pages. Just write something and before you know it, you won't be able to stop.

Everyone has a story. It's time for you to write yours down.