Writing

When I was little I never used to write journals. I thought it was kind of weird to have a journal. I only started it when I went on my first trip to England. Alone, without my family into a host family. I was 15 years old at that point. And I only wrote the journal during the time I was there so what I did was a „travel journal“ and I considered that as not so weird.
It because a tradition or just a part of it. Every time I traveled I would write my travel journal. And then stop when I came hop.
Because the reason I wrote the journal was that I wanted to be able to remember the exiting or interesting things that happened on my travels. I was afraid I might forget some of it and I didn’t want to. But at home, my every day life seemed boring to me. Not worth writing down. Who would be interested that I went to school today and that I sat next to X and that she said Y to me and I thought Z about that?? I thought it’s just the most boring thing! But now when I look back I would love to read about that. I would love to know what I thought about them. I would love to know how I saw my every day life. I mean of course we do remember things but our brain can’t keep everything. And memories change sometimes. that’s why I love to go back into the moment and look through the eyes of little me.
However. I didn’t see that back then and when I started understanding that my everyday life IS interesting I tried to write every day but it just takes soooo much time! So I stayed with just writing when I’m traveling.
Last September when I left home to start my journey traveling became my every day life. And I kept writing my journal. Every day.
It takes a lot of time and I always have to carry the heavy journal around, have to buy new ones when the old one is filled, ...
Now I have so many journals! A week or two ago I brought another 3 filled journals to the post office to send them home. It costs quite a lot to mail them.
But why do I do that? I spend so much money on them, so much time. Am I really gonna read them all again?
Well, I might not read every page again, I might not read every day again. I might not.

But maybe I will. I don’t know yet. I’m pretty sure that I will read at least some of it again. And why not everything?
The fear of loosing these precious moments, loosing the memories is one reason why I write it down.
But it’s not the only reason.
People read books about other people’s adventures why shouldn’t I read about my own adventures? My own story. A journal might not be written as stirring and as intoxicating as a novel but it’s not less interesting. And someone I met along my travels once even said to me I could write a book about my journey.
So I keep my memories kind of as a script.
Okay, but here is the I guess most important reason for me.
I’m learning a lot. I’m growing, I’m going trough progress, I am changing. I’m processing. All these things happen in my head, in my brain. My mind never stands still. It’s constantly changing. Making connections, thinking, exploring, trying to understand, realizing, ... And in all that I’m trying to keep the overview over who I am. And what I think and what I believe in.
Writing down my thoughts helps me to organize them. I can only write them down when I can put them into words. And I can only put them into words when I understand them. Writing my thoughts down is a way for me to process. Process what is in my head right now.
And because I am changing and learning so much I sometimes don’t really know who I am. Then it is good to know my thoughts are conserved in words I put on paper. It is good to know that I can go back, read them and understand what happened to me.

I know it is easier to “travel with light baggage”. It is easier to just enjoy life and go with the flow. Don’t worry about that I might forget what was because the only thing that matters is here and now.
I know that it definitely has its charm. In New Zealand I hardly journaled. But I somehow missed it. Life flew by and before I knew it I had changed and I didn’t even know what happened. Journaling slows the whole process down.
Sometimes I hate it. But often I live it. And at the moment I need it. Maybe one day I’ll be able to let go of it but not right now. Right now I’m proud when I look at the pages full of handwritten words. When I flip through the pages and know that these are my experiences.

It is my story.