My High School Journals Helped Me Unpack My Past

Although the discovery of the journals initially seemed like a blessing, it soon felt more like a curse as I delved deeper into my teenage years. I couldn’t put the notebooks down, reading them daily for months with a gnawing ache in my stomach. I had trouble sleeping and woke each morning with a sense of dread and anxiety, questioning everything I thought was true about myself and my perception of the past.

The diaries were also painful reminders of people who left this world long ago, and I cried while reading about the disrespectful conversations I had with my parents, who passed away in 2008 and 2016. I also had three loving siblings who offered sage advice — which, of course, I ignored — and now I feel deep regret, as two of them have already passed away.

I cannot apologize to them or to the friends I took for granted, letting so many of them fade from my life without a second thought. Jay was one of those people. He was my best friend throughout high school — my rock, my sounding board and the first person I called on my rotary phone every night before bed.

When he admitted he was in love with me during our sophomore year, I brushed aside his feelings, flaunting my new boyfriend around the school. And when that boyfriend broke my heart, it was Jay whom I ran to for comfort, only to desert him once again when the next boy crush asked me out.

It was insensitive, and I wish more than anything that I could apologize to Jay for my cruelty, but he passed away nearly 20 years ago.

There were other friends I took for granted, some close girlfriends I grew up with in the neighborhood. By the time we were 17, I ignored them because I only wanted to hang out with the cool kids at school. I never invited those girls into my friend circle because I was hyper-focused on making the right impression with the popular crowd.

I was also manipulative, socializing with certain people only to get their help with homework and school projects. On the surface I appeared friendly, happy and outgoing, but inside I was jealous of so many girls and gossiped behind their backs to boost my own ego.

I was a terrible friend, and I owe them all an apology. Reading these particular entries left me nauseated and depressed. I had to put the notebooks down for several days to process the ugliness that had festered inside me when I was a teenager.

There was heartbreak as well, and I cried while reading pages detailing my relationship with the first boy I fell in love with, the one who promised we’d marry after graduation and bought me a promise ring. For years I blamed him for the breakup and my inability to ever trust men again, when in reality, the journals proved a different story: I was a clingy, controlling girlfriend who demanded my boyfriend’s attention 24/7, playing mind games throughout our relationship to get my way in every situation.

My possessiveness and jealousy drove him away, so I can no longer blame him for leaving. Everything that happened after he left — the bitterness, anger and self-harm — I did to myself.

What saddened me most, however, was realizing how unstable I was as a teen suffering from mental health issues. Unfortunately, back then no one talked about anxiety, depression, body dysmorphia or suicide ideation. I tried to tell my parents how I was feeling, but they assumed I was being overly sensitive and thought I needed to toughen up. Ashamed, I never got the help I needed, and it left me emotionally crippled for years until I finally sought professional help.

I’m almost finished with the box of journals now. Despite the cringeworthy entries and mixed bag of memories, it was fascinating to read about my personal growth over the years.

While I don’t like some of the things I did, I understand the whys of who I am today. Another bonus is that the journals filled many gaps in my memory, since I’ve always had a mental block when recalling my teen years. It feels like I’ve time-traveled back to the 1970s, and suddenly everything is crystal clear. I remember it all, and not all of it was bad. I had some great times with wonderful people. As for the ones I took for granted, I have apologies to make, and have already started the process.

Thankfully, time is very forgiving, and several people I’ve reached out to don’t recall anything negative about our friendships. But I remember, and it’s essential to acknowledge my mistakes to move forward with a clear conscience. Opening a Pandora’s box to my past was intimidating, but not everyone gets the unique opportunity for a life review from an old carton of spiral notebooks.

I’m glad I’m no longer that sad, self-absorbed teenager from the 1970s, but also I’m not afraid to admit that I’m still (and always will be) a work in progress.

AARP essays share a point of view in the author’s voice, drawn from expertise or experience, and do not necessarily reflect the views of AARP.