Seeds were planted...

I write. A lot. It's how I process things the best. When I extract my thoughts in this way, I'm able to garner more insights and learnings than I otherwise would. I feel called to share them.

Here we go.

I’ve been feeling a call to write for a while now. It’s almost like my Nana is poking me from the other side saying “hey! would you get going with the writing already?!”

You see, when I was 14 she gave me a journal right before our family moved to the Netherlands. She told me she thought I had a '“knack for words” and felt a journal would be the best way for me to capture my experiences. And write, I did.

I still have that journal. It’s got thousands of words written in it about many of my experiences between ‘99 and ‘04. I came across it a few weeks ago, and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it. In the front cover of the book, amongst artifacts of memories, is a small folded card from my Nana with her eloquent cursive handwriting dated on my birthday in 1999.

“Michael, Since I can’t take this wonderful trip with you to Holland, I thought you might like to keep a journal for me to read when you come home. You are such a good writer, so have fun! Much love, Nana”

I remember on long trips knowing that I’d have 8 hours to burn and ultimately deciding to write in the journal. In-flight movies consisted of 1 or 2 choices, music was still on CDs so I was limited to the travel case of albums I stuffed in my carryon, and electronics weren’t allowed at all for the first and last 45-60 minutes of the flight. Oh, and cell phones weren’t at all entertaining. So what else was I to do? Read, or write.

I wouldn’t always have something specific to write about, but once I’d start the words would just flow. I’d flip down the tray table and write until my hand would get tired, documenting every detail of what was going on in my world. By the time I was finished, I would feel a sense of accomplishment that the 3 or 4 pages I scribed would be forever preserved and I could recall those experiences anytime I wanted.

Fast Forward.

Just a few weeks ago, I found that journal again in box of memories in the basement. The journal is twice as thick as it was when I got it because between many of the pages are ticket stubs, boarding passes, and letters from my Nana. Years of memories. As I flipped through the book, I couldn’t help but notice that the last 1/3rd of the journal is empty. I had stopped writing somewhere along the line.

“But, why?” I thought. As all of the memories and emotions from those adventures come flooding back to me, I feel grateful that my grandmother had given me this gift and encouraged me to write when she did. I’m grateful that I actually listened to her - because at 14, I didn’t do much of what any adult asked of me. But, I also felt disappointed that somewhere I had lost the gusto to continue writing.

A few years back, I ran into what felt like an insurmountable obstacle for me; depression. In pulling myself out of the darkest hole I’ve ever known, I was encouraged to start writing. A friend of mine suggested I use daily journaling to express gratitude. At first, this felt silly and maybe a little corny but that’s only because I severely underestimated the power in it.

Since then, I’ve been writing everyday and it has helped me renew my love for life and the written word with long term plans to publish a book.

What I do know.

What I do know, is that I never realized that writing would become such a prolific activity in my life.

I stopped writing almost entirely for 15 years for any reason other than academic requirements. Many kids get caught up in the perception of their peers… I abandoned a few things in my teens that brought a lot of joy, writing being one of them. For a long time, I was overly concerned about what people would think of me. Moving as much as we did required the ability to fit in and make friends, so I let being ‘cool’ get in the way of what brought my soul the most peace. I won’t let that happen again.

Even when I would sit down and write, it was only ever for me. As I looked back at the note she wrote me over 23 years ago, I realize that she would have been delighted to read the things I wrote, but I let some self-doubt get in the way and that kept me from sharing with anyone. I was afraid of it not being good enough or that I would garner unsolicited advice or criticism. I won’t let that happen again, either.

Knowing what I know now, I’ll create the space to write daily, share with others when I do, and worry a hell of a lot less about looking like a nerd.

Where are we going with this?

If you read this far, thank you. I’m not sure what twists and turns this Substack will take, but the next adventure for us will be here in 2 days. We’ll be welcoming our baby girl into the world to complete our family of 4! I intend to use this to document the experience and share my insights and learnings, so please Subscribe if you’d like to keep up to date!

The Journal That Started It All

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