It was sixth grade when I received my first journal--the kind with the little gold lock and key. I loved that lock and key. Looking back, I chuckle at the feeling of safety and privacy this little piece of hardware gave me--when the white vinyl strap could have been easily cut by my younger brother! Hiding it between my mattresses, I can picture its glossy floral cover embossed with those all-meaningful words, My Journal.
At that time the big news in my life was the massive crush I had on my big sister’s friend Shay. He was almost five years my senior, and of course thought of me as nothing more than an annoying little kid. I journaled faithfully until high school, when a “friend” of mine took my journal out of my locker and passed it around school. I didn't realize it was missing until the end of the day when a certain upperclassman handed it back to me. And yes, he was featured in the pages, and I may have mentioned his private parts and the fact that sleeping with him would be a mistake because he was slutty and most likely had an STD. I went numb with embarrassment when it was returned. Needless to say, I sat and watched it burn in the wood stove when I got home from school that day, vowing never to pick up a journal again.
I got over my fear of humiliation, and when I boarded a plane on my way to Australia as an exchange student my junior year—I had a journal in hand! Giving up on golden locks, I confidently sported a purple hard-covered book onto the plane on January 20,1993. Some force inside me demanded that I begin this cross cultural adventure with a way to work through my experiences--on paper. I filled three of these books on that journey. Then, using Egyptian tomb builders’ techniques to hide them, I have managed to keep them private for the past twenty years.
For a kid whose parents were going through a divorce, and having just skipped the country, I loved the solace I found each day in documenting my experiences. Boy, did it feel good to be off the spelling and punctuation hook! Journaling was a free pass to skip from subject to subject on the page, forgetting to organize thoughts into neat paragraphs! I was able to give my teachers, parents, and critics the proverbial middle finger and write like the wind! Another bonus was having an ocean between me and anyone with the ability of leaking my feelings to the world. Here I could assimilate my new experiences by reflection and come out a new person on the other side with new feelings and attributes.
Today, I’m almost two months into re-experiencing this year of my life, my former self, in a deeper way than I would have imagined possible thanks to my journals. In transitioning my journals into a blog I was not prepared for the storm of emotions, memories, and skeletons that fell out onto my feet when I cracked the pages to begin this experiment, including the strange feeling of living vicariously through my young self. The pages are filled with tickets, trinkets, bar coasters, and words of self-discovery and adventures. The handwriting alone tells a story and adds emotion and depth that helps to place me back in Australia at 17, with a big life ahead of me. I feel the sheer passion I had about exploring life before adulthood, budgets, schedules, and children of my own. I took life as it came each day, and filling those days with as many new experiences as possible, was my only mission.
I invite anyone to come along with me at Falling Down Under where I am sharing my journey, no detail spared, on the day it occurred 20 years in the past. This blog is in contrast with the typical travel blog, as my writing was never meant to be read by others. Like the initial appeal of reality TV, before it turned out to be scripted situation comi-drama, the writing’s authenticity isn’t manufactured. And because the journal’s time line is dated before the communication boom of the internet, email, blogging, cell phones, texts, and social medial of all kinds, this time travel blog relies on honesty and raw emotion and blunt explanations, the world before immediate gratification and constant communication.
After many years, I have once again picked up a journal. I hope the thoughts that I've shared with you here inspire you to do that too. Journaling has helped me reconnect with myself, and the people who have greatly impacted my life; it has even given me a little closure on the past, and an Epilogue to the Falling Down Under adventure.
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About the Author: Once my 17 year old self returns to the US, I will explain more about who I am today. For now, I wouldn’t want to give anything away in the story that is unfolding on Falling Down Under. Stay tuned! www.fallingdownunder.com
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