Tuesday, September 25, 2007


I have been keeping a journal of some sort on and off since I was about 11, so about 32 years now. I kept one religiously all thru high school and university because it seemed like so much was happening and things were changing so quickly that I was afraid that I would forget stuff and I wanted to remember everything, good or bad. As I settled down into married life in my twenties and then motherhood in my thirties, keeping a journal was the farthest thing from my mind. There just didn't seem to be the time and if seemed as if life had settled into somewhat of a routine. Excitement and change seemed to be a thing of the past. Not that this was necessarily a bad thing, just different.

Five years ago this past June, my father was diagnosed with cancer and he passed away the following March. Towards the end of his life, I picked up pen and put it back to paper in a large part to work thru my emotions while my father was dying and because I was afraid that I might forget something about his last days. Also my writing became a relief in many ways for my mother who was afraid that she would forget some minute detail of my father's final days. It suddenly became extremely important to her that I was able to recite in great detail everything that might have occurred on a specific day or over a specific time period. My journal became her security blanket in many ways. It was definitely a time of change for all of us.

After he passed, I continued to write as an outlet for my emotions. I carry my journal with me everywhere and any time I feel the need, I write something in it. An entry can range anywhere from one word to endless pages. I have found that whenever I am restless, upset, bored, impatient, irritated, you name it, the moment that I start writing I am immediately calmed. Needless to say, my recent journals follow no set form. They range from neat and tidy to tremendously disorganized and messy. I paste pictures in them sometimes. I doodle in them. I make sure that each one is different from the next. I haunt stores looking for unique and different books to use as journals. I have made them all my very own by decorating them in some special way covering many of them in scraps of expensive taffeta and similar fabrics.

About three and a half years ago I was told about livejournal.com. This was my first foray into online journaling. It took me a long time to feel comfortable expressing myself publically, but once I got the hang of it, it became easier and easier. I have liked using livejournal and in fact now have a number of accounts there. Mostly I use them to display and store my art work or to join one of their many communities that have interested me in the past. At first I really liked having my journals there and especially liked the whole "community" mentality but after a bit of time there, I started to want or need something different. I started looking for alternate places where I might be able to share my alternate life, something I had yet to be honest with at livejournal.com.

I also wanted my journal to actually reflect what was really going on in my life but because of my "alternate" life I found that this was near impossible using the identity I had been using, well mine. One day I created an alternate online identity to reflect my alternate life. No one would know that it was me. Hence sickgirl was born, a name that I got from bastardizing a Social Distortion song Sickboy plus the whole addict world of dope sickness.

I've now frequented various places on the net as sickgirl now since about the fall of 2004 so I guess its been about three years now. I'm still not completely honest with the world as for all intents and purposes I'm blogging anonymously but then I guess lots of us are doing just that too. While it would be ideal to be able to be completely forthcoming, I know that this would be impossible because there are other people than myself involved in this endeavour and it wouldn't be fair to them.

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