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.
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.
