Tuesday, August 2, 2011

My Journal is, Firstly, My Journal

I suffer from depression and anxiety, and from time to time, am completely overwhelmed with paranoia as well. I am in treatment for these things, and trying to live my life in spite of and in respect for these issues. I am not saying this to win pity, it is just background information for what I am about to write about.

When I journal, I get my emotions out. I have kept a written journal for most of my life, since learning to write. It's a huge way for me to work through feelings I don't understand, and it helps me to express myself, release negative energy, and when finished working in my journal, walk away refreshed most of the time.

My visual journals, my art journals, are no different. But when I have finished one or am finished with one, I don't know what to do with it. It kind of feels like I have all these journals hanging around, more junk taking up more space. I don't feel the need to go and re-read or re-look at them, and if I do happen to do that, I am often reminded of pain I have gone through because that's how I got my pain out of me. Granted, my journal pages are becoming increasingly positive, but I still don't know if I will want these journals hanging around on a shelf for years to come, when I have an expanding book collection that I don't know if I'll ever read all of them.

Then again, in years to come, I may wish I had never thrown them away. So I'm not sure what to do. I have thrown away most of my past handwritten journals, and I don't miss them at all. But art journals are different... I don't know.

I also have some hybrid art/written journals. That's just what has been on my mind. I've been doing decluttering around my apartment, and I am holding on to the journals, for now, but I don't know about the future. Maybe I could reuse them in stead of just throwing them out, art over my previous entries.

No comments:

Post a Comment