One of the luckiest things a child can have is a good primary school teacher. Fortunately, I was one of those children. She was one of the few teachers who came close to the ideal teacher I had in mind. She would make us sing songs and ballads, teach us folk traditions. She would involve everyone in games. Although she had a large class, she tried to pay attention to each of us. And even when she couldn’t, she found ways to connect with us as a group. We had reading lessons, for example, and at other times she would give us time to write in our diaries, sometimes helping us.
During that time I had developed a number of habits. Reading was one of them, but writing was a different case. Maybe it was writing in a diary, I’m not sure. As the years went by, the urge to continue writing in the diary I had started in primary school would occasionally arise, but I never managed to follow through. I made a decision. I could write about the moments that I felt were really important in my life. Instead of writing every day, I could jot down key points. In the end, I remember doing this two or three times in total. So my efforts weren’t really producing results.
As the years went by, I became more and more enthusiastic about writing, but I couldn’t make it a consistent practice. The concept of writing a diary never really stuck in my mind. I thought that in order to write a diary I needed to have an interesting life, where every day felt different from the previous one. The problem was that I didn’t have such a life, so I didn’t think that writing in a diary would have any value for me.
I previously mentioned that I had the opportunity to study abroad. When I came back to my country, I had to break up with my girlfriend, which made me very sad. I had a lot of anger towards her, which maybe caused another negative emotion towards myself. I’m not sure. But one thing I knew was that I needed to pour my heart out. At the time I couldn’t find anyone to talk to because of my introversion and lack of close friends. I felt suffocated. I decided to improve myself and started learning a foreign language again, but it took discipline. After a while I couldn’t go on.
Then one day I had an idea. There were so many things I wanted to tell her. I desperately needed to confide in someone. So I decided to write. I wrote a monologue full of anger, continuous, as if I were talking to her. I must have written five or six pages. I remember feeling incredibly relieved when I finished. It was what I needed.
I wanted to make this therapy a regular part of my life. I started to keep a diary. I pushed myself a little. Unlike before, nothing exciting was happening in my life; the days didn’t feel very different. But this time my self-confidence and desire had grown. I took advantage of that.
Over time, I realised that the same practice could be beneficial for my friends. Everyone has different dimensions of worry, and talking about it can sometimes be a guide. At the very least, it can help you find relief, you know. In fact, the feeling it gives is sometimes like going to a bar with a friend. But my friends couldn’t find the motivation to start journaling, even though they shared similar thoughts. I didn’t force them, but by encouraging them, I found even more will in myself.
To be honest, before I started keeping a diary, I was trying to feel good about myself. You know those books in the personal development/self-help category. I tried to read some of them. Some I liked, some I found silly. Instead of going to a psychologist, I tried to find solutions on my own, so I tried everything I could think of, and reading self-help books seemed like one of those attempts.
One of them had an example that caught my attention. It suggested that on a regular basis — preferably every day — you should write down and express things that make you feel good — no matter how small or insignificant they may be. When I tried this, I gained a sense of awareness of everything and everyone in my life. This became one of my main motivations for journaling.
My first and second diaries, Image by Author
Another factor was that I was doing it all in English. Because if I did it in another language, it would be a bit more difficult for me to express myself and it would take extra effort. And that’s what happened. Because I was using similar phrases, I was trying to change my words without disconnecting from reality.
It became a part of me because I worked more on my diary. Also, my focus began to shift elsewhere. I felt better because I was trying to create something instead of complaining about the things that were bothering me. Roughly speaking, the situation consists of becoming consciously involved in something, if possible. The main effect, of course, is that it reveals your feelings more than any other endeavour.
On the other hand, I have always had a passion for becoming a writer. Like many of you, I have my heroes among writers. One of them is Ray Bradbury. He said that ever since he got his first typewriter, he tried to write at least 1000 words a day. The important thing was not whether he wrote 500 or 5000 words, but that he did it consistently. Writing a diary became my meditation while he sat at his typewriter writing all those crazy stories for a similar reason.
I have been keeping a diary every day since 27 August 2016. Yes, like everyone else, I struggled during the pandemic and there were times when I couldn’t keep it up as a daily practice. But in the end I think I filled about 7 or 8 notebooks and they all have a place in my nostalgia box. My future plan is to give them to my child when turns 18.
I still write. There’s a saying: “Words fly away, written ones remain”. This journaling allows me to remember all those old thoughts, experiences and mistakes. Each finished notebook evokes different feelings. It reminds me of the value of life.
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