It has been months since I have spent time putting meaningful words together. I journal my day to day activities thinking someday my menial life may be important to someone. Then other days I think, who am I kidding, my days of annoyances and successes truly would be boring reading.
In my little world I try to do big things. I try to make each interaction a positive one. I want to leave each connection feeling I have given the best of me. Whether that is the cashier at the local Walgreens or a customer for BluSparkle or one of my closest loved ones.
This information would be more valuable for that future generation to know about me but these words don’t make it on my pages. These words are just how I live my life. They are the actions that make me feel good about myself when I put my head on my pillow at night. To me, this is a habit.
I don’t share the best of myself with others because I want something in return. I am not looking for approval from anyone but me. It tears me apart emotionally when I leave any encounter leaving the other person or persons in a bad place. Although, I know that it is the best thing to do sometimes, it still takes me a long time to recover.
I am awful at confrontation. The very word itself gives me a negative mess in the pit of my stomach. I make sure I have all the facts, well my facts, before I engage in something uncomfortable. Now these conversations I actually do document in my journal. What’s up with that? Why do the icky ones make it into my pages? Will I be remembered for just those?
I guess the next time I sit with pen and paper I have to look at the simple and positive connections I made that day too. The ones even I take for granted. I need to put the menial parts of my life that are important to me in my personal history. The best of me.
These pages will most likely end up in a dumpster someday because they will bore someone to tears. Maybe though they will bring some insight to another and help them on a day that they need it.
To me, that is what is important.