“May I suggest that you write, that you keep journals, that you express your thoughts on paper…You will bless the lives of many—your families and others—now and in the years to come.”
- Gordon B. Hinckley
My journals, have in many ways been my closest friends. This morning around 8.15am, I came to the end of another one, and by coincidence, the black gel pen give out as well. Tomorrow, around the same time, I will carry on with another journal, scribbling away my thoughts, feelings and fragments of any dreams I can remember.
Over the years, when depression has disabled all my day to day living, there always seemed just enough energy to 'write', something, anything to jump start a recovery of sorts. It didn't always work, but thankfully as timed moved on and soberiety kicked in, the pen and notebook became my pillars of strength, and still are to this very day.
Now I have something new to write about, at the age of 63, I've suddenly developed eczema, what a pisser!. I'm relieved however by the caring from my wife, who worked in Dermatology Research for many years. Plus, this summer, I've been bedevilled with insect bites (roll on the winter), so my life has to change, diet, loads more exercise, but that's no bad thing.
This Sunday is turning out to be a very productive one in many ways. In part preparing for a photographic reconnaissance trip tomorrow, a photoshoot of Abbey Park on Tuesday and a four day trip to West Wales next weekend. So, all these events will be recorded in the new journal, and help in my daily fight of the blues. When I see the beauty and wonder in my granddaughter's eyes, and realise that one day, she will read these journals and diaries, my hope for her that she is spared the illness of depressive thought. However, by reading them, she will see that Granddad was a fighter, and never gave up hope. That's my legacy to her and the life she has to come.