When I was diagnosed with
breast cancer, I instinctively turned to my diary again for comfort. I found
that it helped me to find some clarity and organise my thoughts and emotions at
a time when my head felt scrambled.
The wonderful thing about a
diary is that it’s your private space to release feelings. It doesn’t judge, it
simply listens and records. Sometimes, dumping the contents of your head
somewhere safe and getting silence in return is exactly what’s needed.
As an artist, my diary was also
full of scribbles and sketches. I found it therapeutic to make these little
drawings, charting my thoughts and feelings.
When I lost my wonderful Dad, I
found a tiny white journal in his belongings and since it was unused, I decided
to record memories of him, one per page as they floated into my mind. I wanted
to capture the precious memories and was afraid I would otherwise forget them
over time. My beautiful Mum now also features in these pages, and this little
palm-sized journal is almost full.
It brings me happiness to flick
through in quiet moments, and it will undoubtedly be passed down to my
daughters at some future time along with the diary of their childhood antics.
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