I really wish I had kept more journals when I was younger. It is like looking in the mirror and seeing myself 11 years ago.
“I never thought I’d see 21 single and without kids. I can’t imagine 25 at all. I’m in love with the potential I possess to be everything I have ever dreamed but I dread the work it will take to get there. I’m proud of how far I’ve come but I know I could have gone further.”
In the context, when I was 18 my close friend was getting married, as were many others in the small town I lived. I thought that would be my future as well, to be Betty Homemaker. At 21 I had just finished basic training and was headed home to join my National Guard unit. With multiple injuries, it had taken me a lot of time to recover and complete that chapter and I could not help but feel like, though I succeeded, I had failed a little.
At 25 I met “the man”. At 28 I had “the kid”. And at 32 we had our family; husband and wife, boy and girl, and dog. He’s a good dog. We both continue to work our asses off, but all in all I would be comfortable to say we live the good ole American Dream.
So I look in the mirror and I can’t help but laugh at that young girl. Had I thought my time had past me by?? It is so hard to say. For reasons unknown to me, I have very little memory of ages 16-24. It might have been due to the trauma I’ve witnessed, but it does not explain the length of time that is merely sprinkled with familiarity. I do not remember ever writing anything, and now I am finding clues to my past in my own writing. Probably the weirdest thing. Maybe it will become my next story.