Journal journal, where the hell is my journal?

I don't journal. I've tried. I must have 5 or 6 absolutely gorgeous blank books...given by friends because I look like the kind of person who journals. I gotta do something about my looks, I guess.

Journaling frustrates me on so many levels. Level one - it's boring. My life and my thoughts are not that interesting and I cannot come up with enough good reasons to replicate it on paper. Who would read it? Not me. And I certainly don't want anyone I know to find it and read it after I'm gone. I wouldn't be able to defend myself! Or explain myself. When my ex-mother-in-law died we found at least ten years worth of journals. We struggled with what to do with them. Eventually we tossed them. I know, that's awful, but what the heck were we going to do with them? They didn't contain many surprises. No shocking revalations. Just a life, an ordinary life.

The level two problem with journaling is my outrageous need to write it right. I could never just let my thoughts flow freely and then close the book. I would edit, and re-edit, and wonder if it was 'good'. Journaling gives me performance anxiety. For me, journaling is a performance. I think that defeats the purpose of keeping a journal.

At level three is the issue of catharsis. Writing in a journal is alleged to give us a place where we can safely and privately dump our thoughts, reflections and feelings.To freely unburden ourselves. Personally, I'd rather call a friend and bore her to tears. Or talk to a therapist and bore her to tears. It's faster. I like fast. I'm a drive-thru kind of person...I don't have the time or inclination to go inside.

And look at how much time is involved in the journaling ritual! I am not a ritual person. Finding the time, place and right moment to put pen to paper- every single day - sound like being stuck in a bad job. Sounds like working on an assembly line. In fact, I'd rather work on an assembly line than write in a journal every day. Lets face it - I don't write in this blog everyday.

And speaking of this blog - you might argue that blogging is a form of journaling. Maybe it is. But, that brings me back to the fear of having someone actually read what I write. No one I know has the web address for this blog. Anyone who has read it came upon it by accident- usually compliments of Google. When they tell me they've read parts of it, I panic. Did they like it? Was it interesting? Did anything make them laugh? Blah blah blah. I could NOT take that level of paranoia every single day.

A lot of books and articles about surviving midlife recommend journaling. I don't know why. I think that there are special kinds of people who can do this and do it productively. I, clearly, am not one of those people. I like telling my stories. I'm a much better "teller" than diary-keeper. oops, did I say 'diary'. Well yes I did. These things used to be called diaries. I wonder why that changed? Does "journal" sound more sophisticated? Not to me. To me it actually sounds pretentious. It ranks right up there with "parenting" (a word that used to be a noun before it became a verb)and "scrapbooking (another noun turned verb).

So "journal" if you can or if you must. It is not a critical part of reinventing yourself. A great facial, some professionally applied makeup and a strawberry margarita will work even better.