Has anyone here ever (re)read your own old diary by any chance? how did it feel?

I am having to do a reflection paper for that synthesizes my personal development over the past year. Looking back over old journal entries I realize, not only am I capable of drama, I have a gift for repeating it. Sigh.

I don’t have a journal, but once I was the subject of a dissertation on drama therapy. It describes a very personal journey: my becoming a mother. I often read it over, and sometimes it is like I’m reading about another person. There are things that I was very concerned with at the time, which are not a concern any more, and other things that haven’t changed one bit! I will always treasure it though, as I do the experience of helping create it.

Life is cyclical. Notebooks from 20 years ago aren’t much different that notebooks today.

I see that I haven’t learned very much, which is unfortunate.

Apparently I did not have a lazy bone in my body back then. I was doing something every night: fixing the car, moving a friend, dating, buying the house, riding the motorcycle.
Jeez when did I sleep?

As much as I write, you’d think I would have kept a journal. Ha ha… I always got about five entries in and then never returned.

For a while, I did carry around a marble composition book and write down everything I thought and felt, but I always burned them when I finished. Gods, I was a drama queen.

Yes and it felt very painful to realize how bad things were and how desperate I felt at the time. I felt sad that I stayed in such a emotionally damaging relationship.

Then there are the things I remember from childhood when I read these things. Probably stuff I really don’t want to remember.

reading my old diary made me feel stupid for actually keeping that crap where someone could read it! I quickly burned it.

actually made me realise how stupid I can be and how we are all susceptible to misinterpreting people’s actions and intentions. So many events seem dumb when viewed with the benefit of hindsight.

Reading my old diary made me realize what a pompous idiot I was and I quickly destroyed the embarrassing evidence, not of my actions in the past, but of my foolish thoughts and terrible writing.

I’ve had a couple of journals at different times in my life and I’ve always re-read them with considerable embarassment.

Sad for that searching young woman and recognition of her in who I became.

True, all the answers remind me of a quote, “We never really grow up; we only learn how to act in public.” Thanks guys for sharing your thoughts, appreciate it :)