When I lived in Thailand as a teenager, I kept a diary. Turns out, I’m crap at keeping diaries - Samuel Pepys or Anne Frank I am not! My daily entries often consisted of a list of what I’d eaten - interesting only because I was living in Thailand – but they tell me little about how I felt or what I was thinking. My letters home though, were much more enlightening, perhaps because I like to talk to people, and a letter – like a blog - is more of a conversation?
Blogging too is more like writing letters, and tells me much more about my thoughts and feelings than keeping a diary every did for me. Except for when I was going through infertility and loss, when I was often kept awake at night, thinking about treatments or my losses and the details - always the details - of what had happened recently. I would go over and over events and hormone levels and doctor’s comments, in an effort to remember them, worried I'd forget the details of what I'd been through, or worried about what people might be thinking, and what I might say to them. Finally, I realised that writing these things down before I went to bed freed me of that need to churn it all over and over, it reduced my stress levels, and made it so much easier to turn off my brain, breathe deeply, and fall asleep.