I have something priceless, a possession that jealously holds lots of my private thoughts, something that means the world to me, a possession that holds my visions, my prayers, my silent tears, and my happy and bad moments of life.
I understand that certain things we own may look so ordinary to others; people can perceive them as casual, but to us, they hold something valuable, they hold a deep meaning, and they can be a symbol of anything we cherish, and that's what makes the difference. Whatever you define that thing to be for you makes it extraordinary. To me, that possession is my diary!
There was a point in my life when I felt that I was too young to shoulder a lot that befalls me. I said to myself that these things shouldn't be meant for me; that was a human thought. You wouldn't blame me for thinking that way because no one wants to be a victim of negative circumstances, but life happens at times, and we just have to deal with it.
I was literally reaching my elastic limit. At a stage, my memory was failing me; I didn't know what to think at a time. To say that I felt overwhelmed is an understatement. I looked back to think of how I began life and how I was where I was then. I looked around me and saw friends living a life I feel is devoid of the kind of stress life throws at me, but the truth is that I can't be them, and I also can't question God for many things but rather strive to be strong instead of wishing to be another person.
That point was when I thought of getting this diary where I can always pour my emotions into writing. A place where I can personalize my memories, and as I hope for better days ahead, a place where I can come back someday to flip through the old pages and maybe smile or cry. I don't want to say that life is unfair, but sincerely, I am crying as I type, thinking about what I have seen as a mom in this life, as young as I am. Many people that know my story usually say that I am a strong woman, but it's simply GRACE!
Take a look at this diary; it looks old, right? I have used it for 5 years, journaling my life experiences. I am sorry, but I can't snap the written pages because of how sensitive the information is there. But I thank God for the day I grabbed this diary and started journeying with it. Everyone in my home knows how dear this diary is to me. It also has a special position in my home, and I don't fail to express myself with it through writing whenever the need be.
My son read a page of it and started asking me questions about stories concerning his birth. He said, Mummy, you passed through all this just to birth me? I was waiting for him to grow a bit before I could explain certain things to him so we could be on the same page, and so he could understand where my journey with him began to date and know that I didn't deliberately subject him to all he has gone through in life as a child. He has been subjected to lots of pain medically and lots of procedures, but what can I do? If only I could bear the pain on his behalf.
My diary has been my safe space where I detail my journey of life with him and other sensitive parts of my life. It might not be an expensive or flashy possession, but it's my treasure!
As I flip through the old pages, it reminds me of where I started and where I am today. Hopefully, I will read aloud my victory with my family someday, and we will smile together for pulling through the storms of life.
This post is in response to the Ladies of Hive contest #246. Thanks @amberkashif for the opportunity to express this particular thought of mine here.
