I Just Read Through My 2019 Journal Entries…

T-Shirt from David Kelly’s collection/Photo by Hunter Berry

In 2017, just after my brother David died, a friend of mine let me borrow her copy of Julia Cameron’s creative workbook, The Artist’s Way. I’m still borrowing the book, (Thank you, Julie!) but I didn’t buckle down and do the exercises as prescribed. The one thing that DID stick from The Artist’s Way was doing The Morning Pages. It’s just three pages of free writing at the start of the day to unleash ideas and run the spigot so you get past whatever’s on your mind or bothering you to get to a new place of creativity or thought. At least that’s how it’s worked for me.

I’ve ended up writing those three pages every other day for the last two years, so 2019 is the second year I’ve had a year-long record of what I was thinking and feeling and going through in print. I don’t think I went back through my writing at the end of 2018, but I did go back through the journals this year. I learned a lot about myself in the process.

First of all, I have a lot of thoughts on the United States government, and, thankfully, less of those unfiltered insights made it to my public social media pages this year than in 2018! I was able to get most of my cursing about politics out in the journal this year instead of plastering it straight to Facebook. 

Second, I was very tired and worn out for most of the year until my doctor tested my Vitamin D level. It was extremely low, so she prescribed a major Vitamin D supplement. At first, I didn’t feel any different, but the instances of me writing “I’m tired” in my journal have decreased dramatically since I started taking the supplement. I’m also taking less naps now, so, I guess that’s working!

Third, my journal shows me I did more grieving for my brother, David, this year than I actually recall while just sitting here trying to remember 2019 based on the memories in my head. Right now at the end of the year, I’m not in a place where I’m crying about his loss a lot or missing him acutely. I thought it would always be especially bad at the holiday season, but I’ve been able to inject remembrances of him in subtle ways as we go through Thanksgiving and Christmas. My mother has been really helpful in casually bringing up memories of David and talking about him at family gatherings. The loss still hurts, but I think I’m coming to accept it as a manageable fact of life I can ignore most days.

Reading what I wrote in my journal tells a different story. I’m reminded that losing David has forced me reorganize the way I see myself in the world.  When I try not to think about David, I lose perspective on the way our shared DNA expressed itself in his quirks and his outlook on politics and the pride and burden of being a Southerner. Forgetting him makes me make less sense to myself. When I remember how he actually was — what he believed in, what he struggled with — my reactions to injustice aren’t as troubling or surprising to me. I remember they have a purpose. They’re my way of honoring David’s memory and keeping him with me. 

Now that I’ve covered all that, I want to share a few of my favorite sentences from my 2019 journals. They’ll be out of context, and I hope to put them into context publicly at some point. I just feel like I need a few more years to get perspective on the last few years to really write about them more in depth. Maybe not. Who knows? 

And now, here are the sentences: 

“I need to keep writing because there is more page to fill, but I‘m really out of things to say.”

“I feel like I’m a square peg trying to fit in a round hole, but that’s good, because it means I bring a different energy.”

“I think anything I put on my stomach right now will lead to a bad place, gastro-intestinally speaking.”

“The way Albert smiled when Victoria stood up for him in the court was soul-filling. It gave me inspiration to keep moving forward even when I think my dreams are unattainable.” (Thanks, Victoria on Masterpiece!)

“That right there is why I don’t like being out late around drinking anymore.”

“I really appreciated we left that space open for David. I know we all miss him a lot.”

“I have been trying to fast-forward past this loss, but I don’t think that’s healthy.”

“I’m grateful for this pen that writes so well!” (Paper Mate Flair. I swear by them.)

“It’s amazing the shift I feel when I just give that over to God.”

“There is fear there — fear of just blindly following the path that naturally occurs for most people.” 

“Being from Alabama is complicated.”

“I don’t have dreams of what he would be doing now at 35.”

“People stress me the hell out sometimes.”

“I was feeling paralyzed, but journaling has helped me get unstuck. I think I can move forward now.”

“What was I thinking the other day that gave me an entry point into being mad at God for David’s death?”

“My dreams have been pretty wild lately. Two nights ago, I dreamed I was in some kind of Bonnaroo/Kentucky Derby/Hunger Games dystopia with Madonna, and Russians were trying to murder us. Rachel Maddow as doing a remote broadcast about it while dressed up as Ariel from The Little Mermaid.”

“Sometimes I feel like I’m just hurtling towards something.”

“I was just scared to look so deeply into someone else’s open wound.”

“I think it’s best to take every opportunity to shut up. No one needs to know my opinion on most issues, especially if they aren’t asking for them.”

“I can’t stand elitism, except in myself.”

Happy New Year!

XO

David’s late cat, Puddin’, who hated me and my dog, Billy. David’s George Jones painting in background.