Several years ago, I made the mistake of leaving my personal journal out on my table in my bedroom. Yes, in MY OWN PRIVATE BEDROOM.
My teenage son came into my room one day (while I was at work) looking for something, he can't remember what, when he "came across" my journal lying on my desk. In my bedroom. MY OWN PRIVATE BEDROOM. Needless to say, as most humans would do when facing an irresistible temptation, he helped himself to it without considering the consequences.
At the time, our family was at the tail end of a very challenging three-year-long journey (the details of which will be shared in a later post), and he read some stuff he shouldn't have. In other words, he put his nose where it didn't belong. He got his feelings hurt. He got mad, or "butt hurt," as he likes to say. He didn't confess to his snooping until several years later during a very intense/enlightening/revealing phone conversation between the two of us. He apologized and asked for forgiveness, which I readily gave, but since then, I learned to write a disclaimer in all of my journals to protect the unsuspecting:
"This is the PRIVATE, PERSONAL journal of Stephanie Merchant Johnson. If you are reading this, I'd better be dead. If your name is mentioned, your feelings will likely get hurt. Your opinion of me will most likely change, and not necessarily for the better. So do yourself a favor, RESPECT MY PRIVACY, MIND YOUR OWN BUSINESS, close this journal, and put it back where you found it!" Or something to that effect.
My son learned his lesson. Sort of. But at least we were able to clear the air. These days, my journals are filled with words of praise of how he has grown through the years, how proud I am of his numerous accomplishments, and what a wonderful human being he has become!
I also discovered that my daughter snooped in at least one of my journals, reading one of my deepest, darkest GRAVE SECRETS (also to be shared in a later post). When she confessed and asked for forgiveness, I readily gave it, and we were able to have a good laugh about how I include disclaimers in the beginning of all my journals now as a result of my son's snooping. She admitted she includes a similar disclaimer in her journals.
The snooping doesn't end there! My son and daughter weren't the only ones who stuck their noses where they didn't belong; I also found out that my husband helped himself to my journals on more than one occasion (to be shared in a later post). We're separated now, but at the time, he also got pissed. Serves him right--he should've read my disclaimer!
As an INFJ, my journals are a way for me to privately record my thoughts and feelings and work through personal issues. I am a lousy communicator and an avoider-of-any-and-all-confrontation, so I rarely speak my mind or defend myself, much to the detriment of my own mental health. As a peacekeeper, I'd rather keep my trap shut and stuff my feelings inside of me than risk hurting someone's feelings or ruffling feathers, even if it means suffering through chest pains from stress and worry, countless nights of insomnia, or bouts with gastrointestinal upset. As a result, my journals contain subject matter that I would never share with anyone else, not even my best friend. And ESPECIALLY not my mother! My journals are my only source of courage, words that will never be whispered, self-defenses that will never be stated, explanations that will live on forever on paper only, and advice to myself (and frequently others) that will go unheeded. They contain my raw emotions, my perspective before all facts have been learned (I frequently jump to conclusions, although I do my best to give people the benefit of the doubt as often as possible), and knee-jerk reactions to events that have happened to me. They are MY feelings, MY emotions, MY gut reactions, MY deepest, darkest secrets. Secrets that I will likely take to my GRAVE! They are not meant for anyone else's eyes except for MINE! I owe no one an apology or explanation for what I have written. I may be embarrassed to read it later, especially after learning all the facts about something and discovering how I prematurely jumped to conclusions and hopefully that realization will be in a later volume, but again, I make no apologies for being me. And I'm not sorry your feelings got hurt because you invaded my privacy.
According to Merriam-Webster, the Latin word gravis, meaning "heavy" or "serious," gives us the root grav. Words from the Latin gravis have something to do with heaviness or seriousness. Something grave, or important, such as a situation, requires serious thought and consideration. It can also mean a place of burial for a dead body, typically a hole dug in the ground and marked by a stone or mound. Both of these meanings apply for GRAVE SECRETS: The topics discussed are important and require serious thought and consideration; additionally, they are such deep secrets that we will take them to our burial place because we don't want anyone to know about them.
So, welcome to GRAVE SECRETS: If You're Reading This, I'd Better Be Dead. It goes without saying that I'm NOT dead at the moment, but I've reached a level of comfort that I'm willing to share some of them in hopes to educate, humor, or entertain. For the rest of my secrets, you'll have to wait until I'm really dead and my daughter takes over this blog on my behalf to share the really juicy stuff from the rest of my journals (which she will inherit upon my death).
With that said, the majority of these posts will be anonymous. I will post my name when they belong to me (I reserve the right to change names and other details of my own Grave Secrets to protect the identity of the not-so-innocent), but if there's something you want to share, you may send it confidentially to idbetterbedead@gmail.com. I promise to keep your NAME a secret, but by emailing me your story, you agree to have YOUR STORY ONLY shared on this blog. Please change names and details that you want to remain anonymous BEFORE sending it to me.
Get comfy, preferably in your jammies and a hot cuppa tea, and join me as we share stuff that we intend to take to the grave!
