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inlovewithjournals

~ musings on the hand-written life

inlovewithjournals

Tag Archives: journal

Writing Through the Pain

12 Sunday Oct 2014

Posted by inlovewithjournals in my journal collection

≈ 21 Comments

Tags

believe in yourself, healing, health, journal, peter pauper press, therapy, writing

I’ve written before how journalling can be healing, can be a form of therapy. It’s a safe place to dump thoughts and feelings, and explore your emotions and hopefully learn from your experiences, and grow as a soul. This past week I found myself under doctor’s orders to stay home and focus on my health, on returning it to “normal” (whatever that is) as fast as possible. I started writing in both of my current journals (the Paperblanks Blue Filigree and the Winnable Leather Journal) but I wanted a dedicated space for research and observations. I found myself reaching for a journal I’ve had for a long time, so long in fact I no longer remember how it came to me. But it was perfect and I started writing down all the information I could about my condition and pain levels and how I was managing (or not, depending on the day). The activity focused my mind on something other than the pain, which was exactly what I needed.

20141012_133327

It’s made by Peter Pauper Press and contains 160 lined pages. There is a beautiful quote on the back cover:

You don’t need a loud voice to be heard. All you need is something worthwhile to say.

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The cream paper is lovely and takes fountain pen ink with no feathering or show through. I also used gel pens for different sections. The journal closes with a magnetic flap. I’ve numbered the pages and started a Table of Contents at the back. I should have left a few pages at the beginning for this but I didn’t think of it. It works just as well starting from the last page.

20141012_140218

Yesterday I started including diary entries in this journal, as it was just easier than going back and forth between my everyday journals and this one.

I want this journal to contain articles I want to copy out, lists of the fears I have for dealing with this condition, plans of attack for how I will change aspects of my life to meet the treatment goals, and strategies for how I can stay committed and motivated to carrying out those plans.

Just as a book finds its reader at the right time, this journal found me when I needed it most. And I am very, very grateful.

 

My New Ink Journal in an Old but Loved ARC Notebook

06 Sunday Jul 2014

Posted by inlovewithjournals in my journal collection

≈ 18 Comments

Tags

coleto, fountain pen, goulet pens, ink, ink journal, journal, lamy, slicci

Recently I decided my Ink Journal just wasn’t working for me any more. It was disorganized and messy. And I was missing my brown woven ARC notebook. So I combined the two.

arc woven notebook

Here she is again. I’ve missed her!

20140706_134841

Missed this too. It’s an appropriate beginning to an ink journal, which will also contain all the details of my pens, both fountain and otherwise.

20140706_134858

I had a bunch of colorful tabs that I wanted to use so each make of pen has its own page, as well as each ink company.

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Here is a typical entry for one of my pens.

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And here are the ink tabs. I like this system because I can keep everything in alphabetical order, unlike a bound book which was my former ink journal.

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Here is my entry for J. Herbin’s Lierre Sauvage, which I only have in cartridges, at the moment. Where I have a bottle I will indicate that at the top. Not all of the inks have this much detail.

20140706_140019

Today I cleaned out my Lamy Safari (which took FOREVER by the way; that nib holds a ton of ink) and inked it up with the new De Atramentis William Shakespeare. Love it!

20140706_142246

De Atramentis ink is hand-made; that’s why each bottle can be on backorder for so long, according to Goulet Pens. The labels too I expect. I was very amused to see the typo on this label!

20140706_134948

At the back of the book I keep track of my gel pen inventory, along with printed guides to some of the ink companies. Finally found a place to stick those Goulet Pens stickers.

20140706_135017

I cut the tops off the Slicci refills and paste them into the book. I do the same with the Coleto refills.

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So that’s about it for my new Ink Journal. I find it really handy when I want to write a letter or in my journal with a certain pen or a in a certain color; I can flip through this and find the combo I need.

Finding Our Courage Through Journaling

02 Monday Jun 2014

Posted by inlovewithjournals in journal writing

≈ 5 Comments

Tags

cancer, healing, journal, knock knock, writing

Tonight I went for a long walk with a friend of mine, whose son has just received a cancer diagnosis. He is in his early twenties and has an inoperable brain tumour. It’s difficult for me even to type this, and even harder to contemplate how the family must be feeling.

Cancer is big and ugly and overwhelming, even for those indirectly affected by it. My friend needed to do normal things, to talk about normal things, even for just an hour. Mixed in with the normal we did talk about her son’s diagnosis, the treatment plan, what the doctors are saying, what they aren’t saying, next steps, how on earth to cope. I felt powerless to say or do anything that would ease her pain but really, she wasn’t looking to me to do that. She just wanted to go for a walk and feel the sunshine on her face. We did that and it felt good.

We were standing in her driveway after our long walk, watching her dogs pant and look up at us with grateful grins for taking them along. I asked her if she ever found comfort in writing things down, in writing about her feelings, her fears, her hopes, her dreams. She said she did when she was younger but just recently her son had mentioned he wanted to start writing things down, to process what he is hearing, seeing and feeling in the middle of this diagnosis. I raced into my house and grabbed a journal for him, and a pen, so grateful to be able to do something tangible. I chose this one by Knock Knock:

gonna be okay

From Chapters.ca: Use this Inner Truth It’s Gonna Be Okay Journal to reassure yourself when you’re overwhelmed by the creeping sense of impending disaster and the all-encompassong fears both specified and vague that colonize your mind, body, and soul, all of which, from the completely far-fetched to the sometimes probable, do you no good to contemplate and in fact make you miserable, and even though optimism may be unself-aware and ill-placed, you know you’ll be happier as a blind fool than as a clairvoyant apocalyptic.

I didn’t want to make light of his situation but I also wanted to reassure him that we all feel overwhelmed and scared sometimes, and he has more reason than most to feel that way right now, but there is a way through the darkness, and he will find it. I told him to write in it when he felt like it and throw it against the wall when he felt like it. His mother joked that he might throw it at her but we agreed he was not allowed to throw it at someone – but he could write pages and pages about how he might want to throw it at someone!

I did some googling and found three links that support journaling with a cancer diagnosis:

http://www.cancer.net/navigating-cancer-care/cancernet-feature-articles/finding-comfort-through-journaling

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/laurie-nadel/cancer-journal_b_2612961.html

http://nancyspoint.com/twelve-tips-to-journal-your-way-through-cancer-or-anything/

I believe in the power of positive thinking and the power of words to heal. Making a chronicle of a journey such as this can help in sustaining you on that journey when the going gets tough. Just like Winston Churchill said:

If you are going through hell, keep going.

It’s gonna be okay. Even if it isn’t.

642 Things Thursday: Her Grandson

22 Thursday May 2014

Posted by inlovewithjournals in 642 things to write about project

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

journal, writing

This week: A woman thinks she might be living next door to her grandson.

She woke to the sound of a woman shouting. “Living room!” “Kitchen!” That new family must be moving in next door. Rose, her neighbor across the street, knew everything about everyone, and had informed her just last week that it was a family of five moving in. She was worried how much noise three children would make. Rose didn’t know their ages but thought the oldest was a teenager. She liked the quiet street; it was a big reason she chose this home, 10 years ago now. But she found herself wondering about them too, what they looked like, how they acted with each other, who was boss, who was baby, who was daddy’s girl or mommy’s boy. She hoped the family were clean and didn’t like to party too much. She would turn 67 in two months time and didn’t want or need any disturbance in her peaceful existence.

Coffee on her front porch sounded good. Then she could observe without being too obvious.

The big moving van was parked in front of their house, and she noticed with approval, was not blocking her driveway. It looked like bedroom furniture was being unloaded at this point. She rocked herself in her porch swing and watched through the leaves of her big oak tree. I hope they like my tree as much as I do. The tree was firmly on her property but it did cast a shadow onto theirs; she suddenly panicked as she thought of how she could bring herself to trim it if they asked her too. Best not to worry about such as hasn’t happened yet, she sternly told herself. Still she drank and watched.

About half an hour later a minivan drove up and three children tumbled out of the side. She could just make out two girls and one boy, through the green leaves and the various legs and torsos of moving people. She thought the boy looked to be the youngest. A man got out of the van, presumably the dad, as a woman, presumably the mom, had been directing the furniture and box traffic all morning. Mid-40s, she would say, looked like a professional. The kids were standing around, trying to figure out what they should be doing. Dad ushered them inside. And it was time for her to go inside too. The pies for the church sale wouldn’t bake themselves. She didn’t hear much of anything from her new neighbors for the rest of the day.

She made four pies that day and towards noon the next she made the decision to give the blueberry one to her new neighbors. It wouldn’t hurt to make the first gesture of friendliness, to set a good example. She wrapped the pie in a tea towel and headed across the lawn. Their house wasn’t so very different than her own; the same wide front porch, but without the swing. That will change, she thought. In her experience children couldn’t resist a swing.

She tried the doorbell but didn’t hear the reassuring tinkle within, so she opened the screen door and knocked three times. The door opened and a woman was standing there, a wine glass in one hand and a towel in the other. “Hello! My name is Charlotte, I live next door. I don’t want to bother you but I made this pie and thought you might like it.”

The woman’s face broke into a brilliant smile. “Omigosh thank you so much! Please come in.”

“Oh I don’t want to interrupt.”

“Not at all! The place is a mess but come in and meet the rest of us.” So Charlotte crossed the threshold. Boxes everywhere, most still unopened. Dishes on the drying rack in the kitchen. “I’m Dana and this is my husband, Bruce.” Bruce said hello through a mouthful of nails and put down his hammer to shake Charlotte’s hand. “And these are our girls, Laura and Natasha.” The girls were mini-versions of Dana, with some Bruce thrown in. Golden haired with big blue eyes, Charlotte judged Laura to be about 12 and Natasha 8. “Please sit down. Look Bruce, Charlotte made us a pie! Oh it smells like heaven. Won’t you have a cup of coffee? We just found the mugs. Only took us half an hour and three boxes!”

So Charlotte stayed and met the Webster family. After about a half hour of talk about the schools in the area, and being shown the craft project that Laura and Natasha were working on, a tiny figure wrapped in a blanket softly padded his way into the kitchen. As he climbed into Dana’s lap, she introduced him. “Charlotte, this is Tommy. He is our foster child. He’s been living with us since he was 6 months old.” The 6 year old stared at Charlotte with big brown eyes. His dark hair contrasted sharply with Dana’d blonde curls. When Dana encouraged him to say hi she was rewarded with a barely audible “Hello.” Charlotte, on the other hand, couldn’t speak at all. In fact she was having difficulty breathing and there was a furious pounding in her ears. She mumbled something about getting back, left something on the stove, sorry to cut this short. She stumbled out of there, embarassed and gasping for breath. Dana called out, “Thanks again for the visit. And the pie!” but Charlotte was halfway across the lawn, almost running into her house. Once there she collapsed onto her sofa and burst out crying. It couldn’t be, it couldn’t, the boy was only 6, just a baby. But that face! Those eyes, even his ears, exactly the same!

She glanced at the piano in the corner, where a single photo stood in an ornate silver frame. “James, oh my beautiful James, what is happening?” Charlotte whispered. The photo, taken when her only son was 6 years old, could be Tommy’s twin. Charlotte moved to the piano, picked up the photo, tears streaming. She studied the face so intimately known to her, and it was as if James had just run out the front door, of that long ago house on Maple Street, so excited on his first day of school, never to return. He had been abducted at the age of 7, on his way to school. She and James had practiced the route so many times yet she was so very reluctant to let him walk alone. But he insisted. The school was only around the corner, so Charlotte would watch until he disappeared and then phone the school to make sure he got there. That was how she had found out so quickly that terrible day 40 years ago; she watched him turn the corner, waited 10 minutes, then phoned the school. He hadn’t yet arrived. She called back 10 minutes after that and by then she was panicking. The school secretary started walking toward Charlotte’s house and Charlotte also started walking; they met at the corner and both knew something was wrong. James had disappeared. The police dogs were called in, alerts were put up on the television, groups of volunteers canvassed the neighborhood for clues. No trace of her beautiful baby was ever found.

Forty years missing was a very long time and she had given up ever learning anything about her son’s disappearance. Until today. Tommy looked so much like James it was frightening. Dana had said he was their foster child. Could he somehow be related to her James? And therefore to her? They must have records of his birth parents, where they were, what their situation was, alive or dead. The thought brought another fresh set of tears that left her gasping. Could it be possible that after all these years there was a clue? That he might still be alive?

She knew she had to try.

Next week: A man giving a speech to a crowd of thousands is suddenly caught in a bald-faced lie.

This is the latest exercise in my 642 Things to Write About Project. Click on the link to find out more, or click on the category 642 Things to Write About Project to read past exercises.  🙂

 

 

642 Things Thursday: The Best Thing That Could Happen

15 Thursday May 2014

Posted by inlovewithjournals in 642 things to write about project

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

journal, writing

This week: the best thing that could happen

I still feel like I dropped the ball with my post last week, the worst thing that could happen. Because I don’t have anything in mind for this week either. The best thing that could happen is that everyone sees the bright side of every hardship and rises above it. But that is a very simple and naive way to look at the world. It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve been called naive; I guess I can’t help it. Good things do happen and they have happened to me throughout my entire life; conversely I have never gone through what some others have gone through, namely abuse of any kind, trauma, disease, financial ruin. It’s easy for me to say “Look at the bright side” because perhaps I have never really seen the dark side of humanity. So in that way am I even qualified to talk about the worst and best things that could happen? I can feel some of you rolling your eyes at such a self-indulgent post. Sorry. I should put my writer’s hat on and write a piece of fiction around the topic. But for some reason I just can’t do it. 

It may sound trite but the best thing that could happen already has: my life, with all of it’s joys and sorrows, is the best thing that could happen to me. I wouldn’t be me without the people in my life, my family, the job I do, the friends I have, as well as the enemies, the stress, the aches and pains, the challenges I face every day. I am the best thing that could happen….to me.

Next week: A woman thinks she might be living next door to her grandson.

This is the latest exercise in my 642 Things to Write About Project. Click on the link to find out more, or click on the category 642 Things to Write About Project to read past exercises.  🙂

642 Things Thursday: The Worst Thing That Could Happen

08 Thursday May 2014

Posted by inlovewithjournals in 642 things to write about project

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Tags

journal, writing

Next week: The worst thing that could happen.

I’m stumped by this. When I start thinking about this topic I think about the worst thing for me, or for my family, or for my city, or for the country or for the world. Which one to focus on? And I don’t want to think about the natural progression of the worst thing that could happen for any of those situations. For me it might be losing one of my limbs, or my sight. For my family it could be financial ruin or debilitating illness. For the city it could be a natural disaster or an unrelenting crime wave. For my country it could be dire economic crisis or an act of terrorism. For the world it could be global warming or the extinction of dozens of animal species. So when I was thinking through how I would write even one of those scenarios, all I could think about was the positive side of each of them. There is always a positive side, even to losing a limb or having a fragile species finally disappear from the world (although it’s hard to see the positive side of that – survival of the fittest maybe?) I just keep concluding that any “worst thing” can be overcome, can be adapted to, can be survived and made better by the experience. 

Maybe I’m wimping out on the topic for today. But the worst thing that could happen is to become incapable of seeing the bright side. 

Next week: The best thing that could happen

This is the latest exercise in my 642 Things to Write About Project. Click on the link to find out more, or click on the category 642 Things to Write About Project to read past exercises.  🙂

Work Journals

04 Sunday May 2014

Posted by inlovewithjournals in my journal collection

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

golder associates ltd., journal, notebooks, pens

I work for Golder Associates Ltd. We are a “global, employee-owned organisation providing independent consulting, design and construction services in our specialist areas of earth, environment and energy.” My current role is a Technical Editor for a dedicated client team. I’ve been with them for five years. In those five years I’ve received five journals and today I wanted to share them with you.

three journals

I have received five journals in total: two of the large leather refillable journal on the right, one of the brown journal, and two of the small green journal.

inside cover leather portfolio

Inside the leather refillable. I use this at work all the time, so it has my business cards in the pocket and one of my pens.

pen that matches leather portfoio

This is the pen that came with the journal. Notice it has the same sewn detail as the pen. I like the look of the pen but it does not stay released when I try to write with it. I turn the barrel until the pen appears but then when I start to write the point goes back into the pen. Most annoying. But that’s a ballpoint for you!

inside ruled leather portfolio

The paper is pretty thin but it ‘s not bad.

hampton refills leather portfolio

So the journal is made by Hampton, and it’s nice of them to list where to find the refills.

cover brown journal

Sorry for the blurriness; on my phone it looked fine. This journal I received this year. I love the color, and the fact that you can stick a pen in the binding.

pen with brown journal

A close-up of the pen that came with the journal.

pen detail brown journal

And this is where the pen lives in the binding. Just like my Cross Journal.

inside ruled brown journal

Nice ruled pages with brown lines – and they are perforated which is a nice detail. I wish it was refillable though.

back cover pocket brown journal

Pocket in the back.

back cover brown journal

Back cover. Another one made in China, by Spector and Co.

small green journal

This is the small green journal. Love the color but not crazy about the journal itself.

inside green journal

It doesn’t lie flat at all. Very disappointing.

back cover green journal

Genuine Leather and again made in China.

So there you have it. Golder is very good to give out these journals and other gifts; I really do appreciate them. It’s nice to be thanked for your efforts.

642 Things Thursday: No Longer a Child

01 Thursday May 2014

Posted by inlovewithjournals in 642 things to write about project

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

journal, writing

This week: The moment you knew you were no longer a child.

Losing a parent is never easy, no matter how old or young you are. I lost my mother the year I turned 30, and during her illness and after it, I found strength I never knew I possessed. I am the baby of the family, with 13 years between my only sister and I. She is older and wiser and stronger than I will ever be; and I’m not just saying that because she might read this. I have put my sister on a pedestal my entire life, often when that was the last place she wanted to be. But in the middle of our mother’s last illness my sister had to be out of the country, so I was left with Dad and my aunt. The prospect of life without Mom was devastating for all of us. A husband and lover grieves differently than a sister, as a daughter grieves differently in turn. When the phone rang no one ran to answer it. When the doctors spoke of arrangements that would have to be made, my father refused to listen. So when the end came we got word to my sister and she came as fast as she could. In the meantime I found myself having to answer the phone, to choose the last outfit my mother would wear during her wake, to order flowers and food for the inevitable out of town guests, to find the perfect photos to display at the funeral home, to help Dad choose his final gift for her: pink mother-of-pearl rosary beads to wrap around her fingers.

My mother and I had talked about what might happen during this time; the events that caused her death were swift and unexpected but the winter before we had discussed at length how I would function after she was gone. We didn’t usually talk about such morbid things but I had become convinced that I was going to lose her soon and the prospect terrified me. This is the only time in my 43 years that I had a sort of premonition. She assured me she was not about to die; she had high blood pressure and diabetes but they were under control. She told me that when she died, in the far far future, I should not be sad; I would always have her with me. She jokingly said I would never be able to get her voice out of my head and by golly she was right about that. I think it was during this conversation and of course the terrible events that happened just six months later that I realized I was no longer a child. I couldn’t just run to my parents or my sister and have them solve my problems for me. For they might not always be there. 

I would have to listen to their voices inside my head and forge my own path.

Next week: The worst thing that could happen.

This is the latest exercise in my 642 Things to Write About Project. Click on the link to find out more, or click on the category 642 Things to Write About Project to read past exercises.  🙂

Paint If Empty or Tired

28 Monday Apr 2014

Posted by inlovewithjournals in articles, websites

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

brainpickings.org, handwriting, joan didion, journal, maria popova, mary gordon, new york times, notebooks, writers, writing

I started out tonight with an entirely different post in mind. Last week I received a notebook at work as a token of appreciation for Administrative Assistants Day. I am not what you might think of as an Administrative Assistant; I frequently refer to myself as an editor and that is how I am known in my group at work. My official title is Report Production Coordinator which involves quite a bit of word processing. Anyway however you want to describe it we editors were invited to join in on the Administrative Assistants Day fun, with a lunch and the presenting of a present; the afore-mentioned notebook. This is the fifth notebook I have received while working for my company; the others were presented as thank-yous or gifts for something or other. So I wanted to show you pictures of these notebooks but then I realized I forgot one of them at work (I actually do use one or two of them, at work). So that’s a post for another day.

In my despair at it being almost bedtime and my topic thwarted, I started reading this post from brainpickings.org. called Famous Advice on Writing: The Collected Wisdom of Great Writers. That was over an hour ago. So many great jumping off points in this article: Mary Gordon on the Joy of Notebooks and How Writing By Hand Catalyzes Creativity (omg was there ever a more perfect article for me?!?), Joan Didion on Keeping a Notebook, and The Daily Routines of Famous Writers, just to name a few. This hopscotching through articles could go on for some time. I want to write everything down in my journal but that would take weeks. Months maybe. And my apologies if I’ve already touched on some of these articles previously on here. There are over 600 posts now and I find my memory failing. I seem to recognize certain quotes but not others. So be indulgent with me if I repeat myself.

I hope you have as much fun as I did reading these amazing and inspiring articles. And then go write in your journal and just see what comes. You’ll be happily surprised, I guarantee it.

[T]he point of my keeping a notebook has never been, nor is it now, to have an accurate factual record of what I have been doing or thinking. That would be a different impulse entirely, an instinct for reality which I sometimes envy but do not possess. – Joan Didion

 

 

642 Things Thursday: Thoughts on Gracie

24 Thursday Apr 2014

Posted by inlovewithjournals in 642 things to write about project

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

journal, writing

This week: Thoughts on your favorite pet’s personality.

 

gracie

Gracie is affectionately known as our little lemon. We suspect not all the wires are connected in her head. But she is a sweetie and we couldn’t imagine our lives without her.

Gracie is driven by warmth and affection. She is a lapcat and loves her electric blanket. She is very interested in whatever I bring home and put on the kitchen table; she must investigate everything and mark it by rubbing her cheeks against it. She likes to get up with the sun and thinks everyone in the household should do the same. We do not hear her very often, in stark contrast to her sister; however when she does make a sound it is to signify something important like treat time or cuddle time. Her tail is her favorite toy, although her favorite game is what’s under the blanket; she is continually shocked to find it is only my hand. She is not a destroyer of clothes or shoes but can convey displeasure by conveniently forgetting where her litter box is. She has her favorites with her humans, and we have discovered certain patterns; she loves to sit in Dad’s lap and gives him kisses (licking his nose) willingly. However at bedtime it is Mom she seeks out for cuddles and reassurance, and usually no amount of coaxing will produce a kiss. At best it is a half-hearted semi-lick designed to oblige me in the hopes I will stop being so demanding and go back to my assigned role of chief ear scratcher. 

Ten years ago this December she came to live with us. The four-month old kitten was to be a surprise for my husband; he was less than pleased at not being consulted but soon came round. Now she is his baby Gracie girl and caters to her every whim; she is completely devoted in turn. And if you ask me who makes a towel-nest for her every morning on my vanity so she can nestle while I shower I will deny all knowledge. 

Next week: The moment you knew you were no longer a child.

This is the latest exercise in my 642 Things to Write About Project. Click on the link to find out more, or click on the category 642 Things to Write About Project to read past exercises.  🙂

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