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My very first journal entry was written on September 30, 1995 at 8:40 am in a powder blue ink that I now find very annoying.  Two paragraphs in its entirety it would be approximately eleven months before I’d begin including the day of the week with each entry.  A habit I continue to this day.  I remember buying this abstract hardbound book from Pier1 Imports on clearance and having it for several months before writing in it.  So, what finally prompted me to take up writing?  Anger.  I decided to write down my feelings rather than curse my younger brother out.  Surprisingly it worked, and the rest is history.

As I flip through this journal which took roughly 1 ½ years to complete I notice a lot about my younger self.  I had an affinity for different ink colors.  I count five variety of colors ranging from powder blue to what I gather to be a hot pink.  All in an effort to learn and understand who I was as well as wanted to become as an individual.  Writing about how different I felt from everyone else I sang in the choir I was a part of.  I hadn’t grown up in church the way many of them had, nor did I have family members who were part of the congregation.  I was there alone and trying to find my way.  Writing about it in my journal helped.  I also notice how depressive many of my entries were and how hard I was on myself.

I flip through and see an old Christmas card and high school photo from a young woman I mentored.  Today she’s a mother with a daughter of her own.  Where does the time go I wonder?  I read about my grandfather’s death and having to fly back to Oklahoma City for the funeral.  Scrounging for airfare as a young woman.  Money, I didn’t have.  But there are things I don’t remember about myself as I tread down memory lane.  I don’t know what type of car I drove or what my fashion sense was at the time.  Did I even have one?  Lol!  I knew the job that I held.  It was so much a part of my identity and would be for years to come.

Reading about myself as a young woman gives place for gratitude.  A moment of reflection that causes me to be thankful for who I’ve become as a woman.  I’ve learned how to forgive myself, to say “no” and not feel guilty.  I’ve learned to place myself in high esteem in my own eyes.  Also love, pamper and treat myself even if no one else will.  Since that time, I’ve developed an affinity for travel, develop a closer walk with God and myself.  Today I am comfortable with who I am.  Yes, the young girl is still inside and continues to feel different from everyone else.  What I know now that I didn’t know then is that we all feel this way.

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