CD Recycling

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Journaling as life practice

I had the opportunity today for some reflective thinking by way of looking back through old journals I've kept. Actually, I was boxing up books in preparation for my moving out on the 31st and took a few hours to read some especially memorable entries. It's certainly been a rich experience. I go through these journals every time I move, so reading them again shouldn't yield great surprises. Considering that I've moved every year for the past twelve years, their contents shouldn't seem so strange. However, in light of everything that is happening with Susan, I think my writings look queer to me. And very sad. Queer in the sense that my reading is just strange enough to realize for how long this drama with family has been going on. Sad, of course, for a similar reason.Due to my recently ecstatic reading, I feel compelled and emboldened to write about some of these journals/entries here.

My first journal (or the first of this series; I think I'm missing one or two earlier ones) opens with an entry dated 3/14/96. This journal highlights part of my coming-out process, transitioning from high school to college, my first and second lovers, and events leading into the summer of 1997. The inside is compellingly sweet; it reveals a budding queer(ling) in the Chicagoland area, mid-nineties. Too bad I can't find my '92-'94 journals right now.

Anyway, though this journal is interesting as it is sweet, it's not the heart of my melancholy.I was browsing later volumes and came across writing that revealed so many sad and nasty patterns. There were several entries dealing with my mother's mental illness in various stages. I was pleasantly surprised at my own insight at times. And, sad to think this shit is still going on, 10 years later. That is what makes me feel so frustrated; what might I be doing with my life had I had a functional parental and support system?

The next journal, chronologically, begins 8/30/07. I had just spent the summer as a counselor at Blue Lake Fine Arts Camp in Twin Lake, MI and was back at ISU for band camp. This entry dated 9/1 is particularly telling:

"2:00 a.m. Well, this has to be the worst day in my entire life. No, it doesn't have to be the worst, is IS-or has been, at least. I was in the middle of lamenting when grandpa called. Mom's in the hospital. D is sleeping with S. Things are bad. Before when things got bad I had D. Now I'm alone. I'm sitting on my Oriental rug, alone with swollen eyes and a headache. D's nowhere to be found. After I got off the phone w/her she told M that she was leaving town. I wonder if she went up to St. Joe's. I still can't believe she and S slept together. It makes me sick. But, I can't get past this. My mother's in the hospital and I'm obsessing over D. I have no way of getting to Chicago. I'm flat broke. I called her to beg for money but she's not there. I have a funny feeling she won't even show to the parade tomorrow. My world is collapsing around me. After grandpa called I panicked because I couldn't find anyone. I called M and she ran over and took care of me. I think I learned the value of friendship tonight. It was so good to be taken care of and in an apartment cared for. I have this awful, eerie feeling that my life's going to be thrown into a total tailspin. I sensed my grandfather's desparate [sic] need for my presence, or strength at home. Just like grandma. Just like mom. Just like I predicted would happen. I want my own life, Goddamnit. I will not step into that strong family member position. I need to be cared for. God Damn you D! I wonder if she's coming back? What should I do? If I go home, who knows if I'll get to come back. N needs me. I think that's why The Chosen is so...close to home. Funny timing about that book. I finished it today, ironically. Somehow I sense that today I relish myself and my freedom. We're never really free, though. I will not abandon my sister to save my [edit] self. As much as [edit] need to be freed, it just can't happen right now. Grandpa said even when the whole hospital schpeel [sic] is over mom won't accept the family. Where does that put me? Here, with no bottom for support? There, being the back bone? I know my mother needs support. In a sense I'm going through the same thing. But D wanted some sort of re...another phone call. I guess she's coming over. How can I face her when I know she was with S the night before? Because I can't get over her. M would do anything in the world for me yet all I want is D. After everything she's done. I want my mom. And my sister. And my dad. And Bob. Grandma....Anything safe. And familiar. I have nothing. No past. No foundation. No mom, no dad, no Bob. No D. Nothing. I will fill that role my mom and grandma filled. Because I have no choice. If mom doesn't pull through it's me. Dad won't let me drop out to take care of Nat, but I won't allow her to go over there. Not ever. Mom might be in the hospital for a long time. Dad will get custody because mom's in a mental ward. Why is D coming over? Why does she care? Why do I care? I need to be with my sister. Someone needs to take care of me. Because I'm dying inside. School will always be here...family-Natalie needs me. I wish I knew what to do. I will go and take care of my sister. I'll get a job. Keep reading. Keep listening. [edit] My mom has to pull through. For now, I have to help. I swear to God that my father will not get my sister. If it's the LAST thing I do on this Earth."

This journal begins on 5/8/98. It's the one I am spending the most time with right now. I could blog about this stuff for days. That's taxing and boring. As such, I'm just going to excerpt from this one for now. That's enough intensity for today.

"11/10/98. My life can never be left alone. I fee like I'm never going to escape my family. I'm trying to reclaim all my loans, financial aid, credit cards--everything they promised to help with but didn't. I can't believe that my own mother would charge $1400.00 on a credit card in my name, deny she made the charges and then then [sic] scream at me when I asked if she knew anything. I don't understand what I ever did to deserve this. I can't imagine anyone's mom or dad doing this to their kid. I know I'm not the best at budgeting, but I'm trying so hard to stay afloat. Ever since I started college, it's been one hardship after another. I can't imagine anyone getting through this. I want to be supportive of mom because she was always there for me. That, and I feel like an emotional hostage. If I am angry, or whatever, she could lose her mind. Mom always asks why I don't trust anyone in the family. Who could? She and dad made promises to me. Help pay for school, help pay credit cards. And, nevermind [sic] the fact that when they can't come through with the promises, they don't tell me about financial deliquencies [sic]. And they're all in my fucking name: I just don't know what to do. I'm so angry. I don't trust anyone, at all. I'm worried about my sister's well being. Where is the line that one must distinguish between enabling and being sympathetic."

Whew. These are some intense journal entries. I'm just starting to get in touch with how crazy the last 10 years have been. Reading and reflecting on these archives helps remember how I felt in the moment. This is only the tip of the iceberg, really; I have eight journals that span 1996-2004. I'm not quite sure what to do with all this material. I might post some entries from the 2004-2005 period. That was when things really started to change in my life, I think. This is enough for now.