Diary of a Younger Me

Writing fiction demands of you a certain level of introspection. To write fiction well, you must understand human nature. To understand human nature, you must understand yourself. After all, you can never know another human as fully and completely as you can know yourself.

I think that's what I had in mind months ago when I ventured up to the attic in search of a specific box. It's a box that I've had in my possession for years, but hadn't had the desire (for whatever reason) to open for at least a decade. When I lifted its dusty cover, I was relieved to see that the box contained exactly what I thought it did -- a bag full of high school and college newspapers in which I had published articles, and the Holy Grail: my childhood diaries.

From second grade until my freshman year of college, a span of over 10 years, I kept a diary -- or rather, a series of diaries. I didn't write in it every day, of course, and there were periods of my life in which I wrote more faithfully and abundantly than others (I'm looking at you, Middle School self).

Over the course of a week or two, I read through them a few times. There were a few volumes that were mysteriously missing (basically the entirety of my 7th grade year, the end of 8th, and most of 9th), but everything else was there -- a tiny window into my life from my very first entry in 1992 to my last one in 2003. Here are a few of my takeaways from the experience of reading them:

1) There is something exceptionally cool about getting to see your own personal maturation process mapped out on paper. We can dig back in our own memories and reflect on how we've grown, but seeing it in writing -- our own writing -- is something else entirely. It was really fascinating to look back now, as an adult, and watch all of the ways in which I transformed -- everything changed from my handwriting, to the way I viewed my friendships and relationships, the importance that I placed on things like looks and popularity, and the way that I analyzed the behaviors of people around me. It was interesting to see how my focus shifted over time based on what I wrote about. In late elementary school, it was mostly about friends and who "liked" who. In middle school, there was a lot of self-doubt and obsessing over certain boys. In high school, it shifted to more "big picture" kinds of things -- a deeper understanding of friendships and relationships, the world and how I saw myself within it, what I wanted from my future. 

 
 

One of my earliest entries from 2nd grade, and me as a 2nd grader.

2) Keeping a written record of your formative years is both a blessing and a curse. There were moments that I documented that I feel really fortunate to have written down, moments that I had completely forgotten about without photo evidence to remind me but am now grateful for the memory. But it's a double-edged sword, because it also requires you to revisit moments in your life that you'd rather forget, moments that you may have purposely blocked out because they were painful. Adolescence was not always kind to me (is it kind to anyone??), and having to read about some of the hurt, heartbreak, and disappointment that I experienced back then felt surprisingly raw, even after all these years. But I'd like to think that it was also a valuable learning experience, both for myself as a writer and as a parent, to revisit some of those painful memories and to relive them through the eyes of my younger self.

An entry from around my 12th birthday, and me around the same age.

3) We change, and we stay the same. For as interesting as it was to see the ways in which I transformed over time, it was just as fascinating to see some pieces of my current self in all of the previous versions of myself. Young me still had a lot of the same fears, the same hopes and dreams, and the same values. Most of all, though, young me and current me both had/have a love for the written word. Reading and writing have always been my touchstone, my safe space. The diaries are the perfect evidence of that -- the times in my life that I felt the happiest, the saddest, the angriest, the most inspired, I always turned to writing, even as (or maybe especially as) a kid. After such a long hiatus in my adult life from writing, this was a reminder that I am on the right path, that I am at my best when I have a place to put down my words.

 

An entry from my edgy early teen years, when I claimed to hate the beach (?!?!), and me during the summer of 1998.

4) The "big feelings" of adolescents are very real. I taught middle school for a few years. I'll be honest, that age group wasn't my favorite. I much preferred teaching high school, where the kids have a bit more self-control and ability to focus. I've always said that it takes a special person to teach middle school, and and even more special person to truly connect to middle schoolers. Reading my diaries from those years reminded me just how deeply and significantly kids experience things at that age. It's easy for us as adults to dismiss their concerns -- they heard a friend was talking about them behind their back, they found out the person they like does not feel the same way, some girl in the back of the room was looking at them the wrong way. These seem like small things to us as adults, but to kids who are still trying to orient themselves to their peers and the world, these things are everything. I was a good student with a stable home life, and still, the pages of my diary from ages 11-14 are just bursting with angst. It's led me to think back on some students I've worked with, some of whom also had much larger things in their lives to contend with, like learning challenges and family issues, and has made me realize just how hard it must have been for them to navigate through those years, and I now have a new appreciation for that.

An entry from my senior year of high school, reflecting on my upcoming graduation, and me as a senior.

5) There's inherent value in reflecting on our pasts. I know there are some people who will disagree with me on this one. "Don't look back; you're not going that way," is a popular adage, and in this day and age, there's pressure to be simultaneously "in the moment" and forward-thinking, which doesn't leave us much time to look back. But at our cores, we are the sum of our experiences -- the people we've known, the places we've been, our mistakes and our accomplishments. Much like a set of Russian nesting dolls, inside of us are all of the previous versions of ourselves. For me, it was a valuable experience to go back and examine all of those past experiences and reflect on how they've brought me to where I am, how they've helped to shape the person I've become. 

6) Regret is futile. As I read through some of my entries, there was a gut instinct to want to shout out to my previous self at various points: "Don't do that! It's not going to turn out well for you!" It felt like watching a horror movie, wanting to warn the hapless victim not to open the door, behind which danger is inevitably lurking. Reading some entries felt like watching some of my most embarrassing or painful memories play out in real time, and there is an innate instinct to want to try to go back in time and stop it somehow -- don't go after that boy who'll break your heart, don't spend so much time trying to fit in with a group of people who aren't your real friends, don't become so engulfed with young love that you put school on the back burner. But then, there's the realization that our most painful experiences -- failure, loss, disappointment, rejection -- are essential to learning and growth. The build character. They help us grow to become more thoughtful and empathetic people. 

Did any of you kept a diary/journal as a kid? Have you gone back to read it as an adult? If you didn't keep one, do you wish you had? I'd love to hear about it in the comments!