How interesting, I write in many notebooks and constantly misplace them. Then I use others I’ve just found filled with prior disjointed pages. I believe their place is not to record my thoughts but to give them a place to go- to get them out so that they no longer burden me, somehow what’s left in my brain is more organized, most of the time.
Not only could I not save my notebooks, I couldn't really even write about myself (even in private) because I could not stand how I looked/sounded to myself in their pages. I read it as whining, messed up, and altogether not what I had decided a person should be. (Because, lacking a stable sense of self due to the many experiences and facts I write about, I had to use a long list of shoulds to fill in for what most folks can do with likes, wants, needs, and boundaries.)
So, of course I am now a writing professor and researcher who studies, recommends, and uses notebooks. Life has a way of INSISTING that we listen to what we need to know, eventually. So much more to unpack about this.
First, as someone recently told me, the best essays allow the reader frequently to relate the essay to themselves, and this one certainly did.
And this line below really landed perfectly. .
"It simply never crossed my mind to ask someone to snap a photo of me during a suicidal episode in the emergency room."
I'm starting to use a notebook more, but if a notebook is a record of one's thoughts, then so is a personal Substack, more mannered and edited,. Which reminds me that I want to keep a physical record of my posts, bound together.
Love this essay. Journaling is right up there with morning coffee for me -- sacred and non-negotiable. For over 20 years I have dutifully written 3 (or 11) morning pages a' la' The Artist's Way in black and white composition notebooks and never re-read a single word. When one is full, it gets shredded by the weekend. I also keep journals full of ideas I catch, phrases I adore, and things people share. They are more like commonplace books that serve as guideposts and inspiration for how I want to show up in the world. There's just something about compiling, writing by hand, and documenting that helps me work through just about anything -- they're tactile touchstones for me. And even if they go into a dustbin when I move on, not one single moment will have been wasted.
I didn’t know about Sarah’s memoir until reading this today (I know her as a Substack goddess) and whoa! Her book could be a proposal “comp” for mine (which is basically the story of what it’s like to be the daughter of someone who went through what Sarah went through, but the mother never got better…). So I’m off to order it and prioritize it in my TBR pile. BUT! Back to the topic: Notebook-wise, I never kept a journal once my mother’s mental illness got severe. Too painful and too hard to compartmentalize when you have to write down your day. I’d of course do it differently now!
Beautiful essay. I'm intrigued to read Sarah's books. Notebooks have been one of my treasured possessions. When I moved from the UK to New Zealand in my 30s I threw out or gave away 95% of everything I owned so that I could travel light in the world. My notebooks and journals, along with my photos, were one of the few things I shipped!
I have a similar issue with photographs. Digitally, I don't like to have a record of my life in a scroll, even though I write essays that deal with every day life often. The photos tend to keep me in the back of my mind, looking back. Often those are filled with regret or sadness. I prefer to look forward. I'm sure some would say this is an issue with my inner self and I wouldn't necessarily disagree, but it's something to ponder.
Fascinating piece! I love buying notebooks, but don’t have the enthusiasm to write in them like I once did (and sometimes miss it). But when I was journaling I’d finish a notebook, throw it away, and start again. Often using a grocery store side spiral notebook. I kept years’ worth of journals after I quit drinking; then one day went through them all, saw a repeating theme which was helpful, attempted to do some ceremonial burn (didn’t pan out) then took them to the dumpster. After that I lost all sentimental attachments to my notebooks. Thanks for this wonderful piece❤️
I kept notebooks from early childhood. When I turned 50 I tossed them all in a burn barrel and lit the fire. They were written for me, not for others; so I permanently defined that audience. Additionally, I viscerally felt as if I’d set free or let go of the traumas they contained. That pyre was absolutely liberating. When the flames died and the ashes cooled I sifted what remained and used it in an encaustic painting to develop something new and wondrous, lustrous and gorgeous… like the aging me! 😉
I heard on the radio that Ken Dodd had requested that his diaries were not made public after his death but his family have gone ahead and exhibited them anyway. Ken Dodd was a comedian and they often experience poor mental health. I understand his wishes. I also understand that those who have experienced poor mental health are often damned if they do and damned if they don’t. Thank you for a thought-provoking written piece.
"the way we pathologize ourselves and those around us is not normal." Yes. So much yes. Thank you for this beautiful - and personally freeing - interview, Sarah and Jane.
How interesting, I write in many notebooks and constantly misplace them. Then I use others I’ve just found filled with prior disjointed pages. I believe their place is not to record my thoughts but to give them a place to go- to get them out so that they no longer burden me, somehow what’s left in my brain is more organized, most of the time.
Not only could I not save my notebooks, I couldn't really even write about myself (even in private) because I could not stand how I looked/sounded to myself in their pages. I read it as whining, messed up, and altogether not what I had decided a person should be. (Because, lacking a stable sense of self due to the many experiences and facts I write about, I had to use a long list of shoulds to fill in for what most folks can do with likes, wants, needs, and boundaries.)
So, of course I am now a writing professor and researcher who studies, recommends, and uses notebooks. Life has a way of INSISTING that we listen to what we need to know, eventually. So much more to unpack about this.
First, as someone recently told me, the best essays allow the reader frequently to relate the essay to themselves, and this one certainly did.
And this line below really landed perfectly. .
"It simply never crossed my mind to ask someone to snap a photo of me during a suicidal episode in the emergency room."
I'm starting to use a notebook more, but if a notebook is a record of one's thoughts, then so is a personal Substack, more mannered and edited,. Which reminds me that I want to keep a physical record of my posts, bound together.
Love this essay. Journaling is right up there with morning coffee for me -- sacred and non-negotiable. For over 20 years I have dutifully written 3 (or 11) morning pages a' la' The Artist's Way in black and white composition notebooks and never re-read a single word. When one is full, it gets shredded by the weekend. I also keep journals full of ideas I catch, phrases I adore, and things people share. They are more like commonplace books that serve as guideposts and inspiration for how I want to show up in the world. There's just something about compiling, writing by hand, and documenting that helps me work through just about anything -- they're tactile touchstones for me. And even if they go into a dustbin when I move on, not one single moment will have been wasted.
I didn’t know about Sarah’s memoir until reading this today (I know her as a Substack goddess) and whoa! Her book could be a proposal “comp” for mine (which is basically the story of what it’s like to be the daughter of someone who went through what Sarah went through, but the mother never got better…). So I’m off to order it and prioritize it in my TBR pile. BUT! Back to the topic: Notebook-wise, I never kept a journal once my mother’s mental illness got severe. Too painful and too hard to compartmentalize when you have to write down your day. I’d of course do it differently now!
Love Sarah and this beautiful, honest and vulnerable essay.
Beautiful essay. I'm intrigued to read Sarah's books. Notebooks have been one of my treasured possessions. When I moved from the UK to New Zealand in my 30s I threw out or gave away 95% of everything I owned so that I could travel light in the world. My notebooks and journals, along with my photos, were one of the few things I shipped!
I have a similar issue with photographs. Digitally, I don't like to have a record of my life in a scroll, even though I write essays that deal with every day life often. The photos tend to keep me in the back of my mind, looking back. Often those are filled with regret or sadness. I prefer to look forward. I'm sure some would say this is an issue with my inner self and I wouldn't necessarily disagree, but it's something to ponder.
Me… a daily journaler, quickly googling all the brands you named to see if any peaks my interest.
Just wow. Thank you so much.
Those 4 N's are great advice! I'm going to try that myself.
I keep a private journal mostly to facilitate devotions and prayer. If anyone ever read them, I hope they would see Christ rather than me
Also I can’t write straight without lines
Fascinating piece! I love buying notebooks, but don’t have the enthusiasm to write in them like I once did (and sometimes miss it). But when I was journaling I’d finish a notebook, throw it away, and start again. Often using a grocery store side spiral notebook. I kept years’ worth of journals after I quit drinking; then one day went through them all, saw a repeating theme which was helpful, attempted to do some ceremonial burn (didn’t pan out) then took them to the dumpster. After that I lost all sentimental attachments to my notebooks. Thanks for this wonderful piece❤️
I kept notebooks from early childhood. When I turned 50 I tossed them all in a burn barrel and lit the fire. They were written for me, not for others; so I permanently defined that audience. Additionally, I viscerally felt as if I’d set free or let go of the traumas they contained. That pyre was absolutely liberating. When the flames died and the ashes cooled I sifted what remained and used it in an encaustic painting to develop something new and wondrous, lustrous and gorgeous… like the aging me! 😉
I heard on the radio that Ken Dodd had requested that his diaries were not made public after his death but his family have gone ahead and exhibited them anyway. Ken Dodd was a comedian and they often experience poor mental health. I understand his wishes. I also understand that those who have experienced poor mental health are often damned if they do and damned if they don’t. Thank you for a thought-provoking written piece.
"the way we pathologize ourselves and those around us is not normal." Yes. So much yes. Thank you for this beautiful - and personally freeing - interview, Sarah and Jane.