I was looking in the garage the other day, looking for something entirely different, and instead found my diary I had kept when I was 18. I'd been keeping diaries off and on since I was 13, but I was excited to find this particular diary. At 18, I had just moved from America to England and gotten married. I thought there'd be more about both of these huge transitions in my life. Some feelings or thoughts on the differences between cultures or how I was settling into married life. But as I read it, everything came back to me. I was so emotional at that age. Every single entry is about some strong feeling I had at the time. Jealousy, trust issues, uncertainty of the future, nervousness about work, struggles with family relationships. I went back and forth for an entire week, debating whether or not I should post some entries from this diary on this blog, but I decided not to. Everything is just too personal, too raw still and what's worse, I wasn't very articulate in any of the entries. But it did get me thinking about how much I've changed in the last 8 years. All those years ago, I was so desperate to be part of a family, a 'normal' family. I wanted everything to be perfect between me and N's family because my own family was incredibly dysfunctional. And it was a long, painful process realising that no family is perfect or normal and every family has their own levels of dysfunction. And I'm glad I have this small record of me joining N's family, even if it is a chronicle of the many mistakes I made.
Do you keep a diary? (does blogging negate the need for a diary?) What were you like at 18? Would you cringe remembering yourself at 18?