I think it goes to why people write journals. I always wonder why you would write anything if you didn’t want to communicate to other people.
People who keep journals say they keep them for themselves—maybe so they can work through their own thoughts. Or maybe so they can look back later to see how far they’ve come. Some people actually do destroy their journals at some point during their lives. Others leave them for others to read after they have died.
I think that most of us are desperate to be known. I think we hope that our inner selves can be seen and, most importantly, accepted; perhaps even loved. I think most of us want the truth about ourselves to come out. However we tend to think that our inner selves are shameful for one reason or another, and so we don’t want the truth to come out until after we’ve died.
Part of it is that I think passing on truth about oneself is a gift to others. When we see that others aren’t perfect, then we can feel a little better about our own imperfections. If we can’t be accepted for our complete selves while we are alive, at least we can let others know what was really going on. This can help others—especially children—get a reality check. Lies during life can be straightened out. Children and others can find out they weren’t as crazy as they thought, when they suspected something happened, but everyone else denied it.
If I’m right, then when people leave their diaries out in plain sight, it is a subconscious, or possibly even a deliberate invitation for others that the diary writer wants to be known. @Saturated_Brain‘s grandmother was in desperate pain if she was thinking about suicide, and she wanted someone to know and care and love her. I think she left her journal around “accidentally on purpose.”
I think in the case of the person who is confessing an affair, again, they want to be known. They want their children to understand what happened, and why, so the kids can reinterpret what was going on at the time. The kids can have their worries and feeling validated by the truth.
Often, people write diaries for their children. I had a girlfriend who had given a baby up for adoption (before she became my girlfriend). She kept a diary deliberately for her daughter, in case her daughter should ever seek her out. Her daughter did seek her out, and was given the diary. I don’t know what her daughter thought about it, though. We had crazy lives back then, and it may have turned out to be too much information. Then again, her daughter was in her twenties by then; old enough to have some perspective.
I once had a relationship with someone who had a lot going on in her life. She had a sort of open relationship, so she had other lovers besides her husband. Later on, her daughter was also becoming interested in boys. There may have been some drama there; I’m not sure. I thought the mother should write down the stories so her children could see them later, after she had passed away. I thought the children might understand their own desires better if they knew what their mother was truly like. However, the mother didn’t see it that way, and thought there was nothing to be gained from telling her daughter about her whole life.
I write things down in many places; just not in a diary. I keep the most sensitive things in password protected files. My wife knows the password—if she remembers it. I hope that either my children or other people will eventually take an interest in my life, and want to go through my documents. I keep all my letters and many other documents. I think that if I ever decide to, I can reconstruct much of my life by researching the primary documents. Or my children can do it, if they are interested. I would be interested in finding out what my parents were really thinking about various events in my childhood if I could. I’d like to know if I’m really that different from them, or if it only seems that way because I don’t know what really went on.
On the other hand, my wife keeps a journal, and leaves it in the open, but I don’t read it. My daughter keeps one, but hers is private. I have never sought it out, because she is a good kid, and seems to have a level head. If she ever seemed like she was in trouble, I might decide it would be a good idea to read it, but for the moment, I respect her privacy.
I think there’s a balance between respect, need, and love involved in making this decision. It changes with every situation. Who knows how many diaries were never read that could have saved someone’s life. Who knows if any have been read but no one ever told anyone else?
I have been privy to a number of people’s secrets. I have not ever told others these secrets. I don’t plan to start, either. I respect the wishes of the person who confided in me. I think that people want to be known, but they want to be known safely. They know I can’t cast any first stones, so perhaps it is safe to tell me.