My therapy (redone because the last one had a picture of what looked like a bag of weed on top of my journal, but I promise it was dried flowers).

The past few days I have been on this serious cleaning kick. Last night as I was cleaning our bedroom, I was reminded that the drawer in my bedside table has been stuck for a very long time. I haven't been able to open it in months. Today I was determined to get it open, and after much shoving, cursing, and pulling, it finally opened. Yes! And there it was. My journal. Immediatly I got a little sad. You see, all through elementary school, junior high, high school, and college, and 4 or 5 years after college, I faithfully kept my journal. There was never a period of time over a week that I didn't write in a journal ( I have stacks and stacks of filled journals in my old closet at the parentals). Writing in them was always like therapy to me. Every happy or sad moment, every heart break, every relationship, everything is written about in those journals.....and then for one reason or another I stopped writing. When I opened my journal the last entry was the day Chase was born, the one before that was about 2 yrs previous. I wish I wouldn't have let so much time slip by. So much has happened, and if you don't write about it in the moment, its just not the same.

I thumbed through it and found some flowers I had saved in a little baggie that Jamison had given me years ago, and little notes he had written. It felt good to read it all and remember. I read about past relationships with friends and boy friends, and I was so grateful I had written it all down. It made me think of the time when Chase will be going through very similiar things and it will be nice to have something to remind me what it was like.

So, my goal is to start writing in my journal again. For me it was always so therapeutic to write, I really don't know why I ever stopped.