I don’t hold back. I’ve learned that if people wanted me to write kindly about them, they should’ve behaved better toward me. Also, they shouldn’t snoop through my shit.

One day, I’m sure my kids will read my journals. They’ll get a better understanding of what my mind was like and who I am as a person. I’m not perfect, and I like to hope that I’ve raised them to be compassionate humans. Maybe they won’t judge me too harshly for being a stupid ass while I was growing and learning and making mistakes.

More than anything my journals are for me. I write what I feel and what I think. I get things out of my head so it’s not so full all the time, so I can be more clear headed when I need to be. It’s also an extension of my brain. I have a neurological condition and my working memory sucks. Writing down my memories helps me not to forget important things, but also mundane things that I want to remember- like when my kids did something cute or silly.

So no, I don’t hold back, because my journal is a part of who I am- flaws and all. If I can’t be comfortable within my own skin and in my own mind, then I have a bigger problem.