So why my sudden interest in going through my old journals? Well, one day I realized that I taught a Sunday School class of 10-12 year olds, yet could hardly remember anything about that age. It seems silly to admit to not remembering a few years back, but a lot has happened since my 11-year-old days! Eleven, by the way, was the age I was when I first started keeping a journal with any real consistency. I was actually a little fanatical about it, writing enough in my first month of writing to fill up an entire journal. Since then, I’ve slowed down quite a bit. Oh, sometimes I’ll go through spurts of entry after entry of completely random musings, which usually end up filling quite a bit of white space, but in general, I’ve lost a bit of my chronicling zeal.
But what did I discover about my little 11-year-old self? Mostly that I was a depressed and sad little child. I never found anything positive about myself or my surroundings, and dwelt mostly on problems that I felt affected me personally. Thankfully my short-sightedness wore off during the years, though when, I’m not quite sure. I’m still reviewing the evidence for a breakthrough from my dismal childhood blues, but haven’t come across anything yet. Mostly I’m just thankful to be far, far away from those days.
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