Read At Your Own Risk
My Mother used to read my journal.
I think she only did it a few times - but those were the only times I caught her. As you may expect a pre-teen to react when one finds out their secrets were unleashed, I became dramatically upset. However, my anger was immediately overshadowed by the red hot fury of my Mother, with her realizing what I had done behind her back. We were absolutely terrifying when we BOTH were mad at each other. I'm sure my little brothers can attest to this as I recall moments of them running away for their lives.
I really thought I hid my journal pretty well, so she must have made it a mission to investigate the inner-workings of my life. But she was my Mother and in many ways, had a right to know what was going on in it. I understand now that she was just trying to protect me (albeit in her own little devious ways). Not that I did anything crazy - other than seeing boys I wasn't supposed to be seeing (Mom, I swear all we did was hold hands... a small kiss may have occurred), my pre-teen and teen life didn't have much "drama" in it. That wouldn't be until later. It wouldn't be until after high school, when I was no longer living at home, with no one to dig for my journal and shield me from my silly mistakes.
It was very different when someone, other than my Mother, read my journal. It was invasive. With my Mother it was understandable, but this was delving into uncomfortable territories. The next time it unfortunately happened, I was living with a person in between leases during college. It was quite an awkward situation because we used to date. I don't know how I let myself wander into these scenarios. To continue my story, it happened while I was in the shower. And because of what happens next, I will never forget this shower's obscenely bright blue walls and the fact that this place was surrounded by woods when you looked out the bathroom window. To this day, I still have no idea what town I was in.
So it may sound a bit weird, but I had suddenly felt a worry pain. Have you ever had those? It feels a bit like heartbreak, or when you know something is wrong. I’m not a spiritual person, but I’ve had this energy find me before when something was wrong. One of the biggest worry pains I’ve ever had occurred while I was watching Avatar (the James Cameron movie) in a Florida theatre. Story for another time. So in that showering moment, as I was lathering up my hair, I knew my journal was being felt up by unwanted hands.
I was right. I got out of the shower, went into the bedroom, and my “roommate” was very quiet. Then,
"I read your journal."
Deep breath, "I had a feeling." I LITERALLY had a feeling.
"You don't sound like YOU in it."
“Because you don’t know me.”
I remember my response spilling out of my mouth so easily. I obviously had to write about this, which apparently happened on my birthday - how pivotal.
August 17, 2006 3:17 PM Thursday
"So he got a hold of you. Bummer."
Does anyone else talk to their journals like I do? In truth, I’m just talking to myself. I wrote that I wasn't very upset, but of course I was. You can read between the lines in the remaining entry. I felt like people just wanted to get by with shortcuts, and didn't want to invest their effort and time to understand someone. I also became nostalgic because I knew he didn’t read it to protect me. Instead of asking me the right questions, he cheated and peeked at this unfiltered version of myself. It must have been too raw for him because he was extremely unhappy with its contents. And it's not that he found out that I did anything that wronged him, he just read about my feelings and my opinions on matters, personal or not.
But it was too much, so maybe that should be a test for future relationships.
"Here, read this."
5 minutes later...
"We still good?"
No, of course I wouldn't do that! We just didn't know how to ask the right questions. Do we now? I think I’m a bit better at it, given that I’ve cultivated fewer but deeper relationships.
These days, my journal is out in the open, breathing in the fresh and wild air. And now, I feel like I only write in it to prep for real-life conversations. So chances are, if you’re in my life, you already know what’s in there. But since old habits die hard, you can 100% guarantee that I am going to ship all my journals to another planet when my Mother comes to visit.