Diary of an Angry Girl

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I’ve been reading about what to do with your journals before you die. It’s been that kind of week I guess.

I have been writing in a diary off and on since I was about 8. I think my first “journal” was something called an “autograph book”, and my grandparents gave it to me. I went around to mostly family and some friends, and asked them to sign my little book. Most had sweet little messages, some wrote little rhymes starting with “roses are red”; it was like a yearbook for my 8-year-old self. At some point I moved on to the lock-and-key style diaries. Those were always gifts too. And I never forgot to lock it and hide the key under my mattress. I was always a private person. My sister on the other hand, used to read hers out loud to me, as I plugged my ears in defiance.

I sometimes wish I had written with the notion that someone might read them someday. But that would have defeated the purpose for me. I wrote with potty-mouthed abandon, and channeled all the negative energy from my little body onto those pages. I had a lot, you see. I’m not sure I will ever really understand where all that anger came from. We’ve all had to deal with imperfect childhoods, but not everyone came to be host to a little monster. And my little monster grew; at times, it outgrew me. And I would catch up, and it would grow again….

I’ve often wondered over the years what it would be like to have someone read them. No, that’s not quite true; I haven’t wondered, because I know what it would be like–mortifying. I think it would still be so even if my family read my diaries from all those years ago, let alone the ones I wrote in my adult years. But like so many other things in my life, seeking out and destroying my journals has been put on the list of things to do at a later date. But that later date may never come. What if I die before that happens? Who will read them? What will they think? Will they be shocked? Disgusted? Hurt? Will they wonder if they knew me at all?

 

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Beware the Wasps (the Fragment Files III)

Fragments

Age Unknown

I remember tagging along with my sister and her friends. They were older than me.  We had taken our bicycles up the dirt road we lived on, (I was still on a tricycle). Tricycle_(PSF)

We stopped near the top of the road. For some reason, I started exploring the side of the road, which was covered with brush.

It was warm out. Probably summer. I stood there in the ditch, and suddenly everyone looked panicked. I wasn’t sure what the problem was until it was too late: I was standing on a wasp’s nest. I was stung several times on my little-kid-bum. It was very painful.

Everyone panicked about the wasps and hopped on their bikes. I couldn’t believe they left me there to fend for myself. I struggled to hop on my tricycle, unable to sit down, and eventually made it home. I remember feeling foolish as my mom put some salve on my bottom.

Thoughts

Wondering why this is one of the memories that stuck… Maybe I felt abandoned and betrayed by the kids I looked up to.

My therapist suggested I start a chronology of childhood memories, because mine seem to be so scattered and hard to reach. This seemed a daunting task. But I’ve been working on it. I’m going to post some of them here in hopes that it will motivate me to continue with it.

*Image found here.

You’re Too Shy (the Fragment Files II)

Fragments

Withdrawn
             Withdrawn

Age Unknown (pre-k/k?)

I remember hiding behind my mom’s legs while people cooed and cawed about how cute and tiny and shy and quiet I was. I think I felt overwhelmed and a little scared; it was just too much.

This was a recurring theme for many years, juxtaposed with judgement: “You’re too shy, you’re too quiet. You’re not going to make any friends like that”.

Thoughts

Is the need to withdraw inherent in the person or created by people constantly trying to draw them out of their shell?

My therapist suggested I start a chronology of childhood memories, because mine seem to be so scattered and hard to reach. This seemed a daunting task. But I’ve been working on it. I’m going to post some of them here in hopes that it will motivate me to continue with it.

*Image found on Deviant Art, by humanskin