I have kept a journal since I was tiny. I remember my first journal in grade 3 – it had a small lock and key, and I wrote a few words of my daily happenings in it. High school expanded into many journals, and in university I was at a very prolific writing period. Especially while travelling, I was able to fill notebook upon notebook with my observations and questions. The top shelf of my closet is lined with at least a decade of my writing.
Leaving for an extended period in Rwanda seemed like an ideal time to start a blog. I started by giving my blog address to about ten people. It was a way for my worried and interested friends and family to keep tabs on me while I worked on the other side of the planet. My blog was personal and emotional, and many commented that maybe it was too personal. I didn’t hold back much for my blog. My closest people told me they checked it everyday. Now, although I still very, very rarely give out my blog address, some people I barely know check it regularly. My blog has gotten much less personal somehow, I’ve noticed it wander into the realm of mundane a few times. My blog doesn’t often reveal my inner workings anymore.
I see people in my life scared to share their real thoughts, concerns, insecurities, dreams and hopes. Yet there is a deep longing to know that our inner selves are not alone; that we share similarities with others at a deep level. I used to write for this reason, to share my humanness with those other souls that needed connection to an honest truth about living. Now, although I am less apt to write intimately, I am more open on a person-to-person level about who I really am and what is really happening to me.
I have been considering two things: closing up my blog, or really writing on it. Because lately I notice I am writing mostly for the sake of doing it. My heart either needs to be in it, or not. Otherwise I’m not sure what the purpose is.